Sew Right
by candymacaron
Summary: Arthur, an all American boy fresh out of the Midwest, is thrust head first into his new life in San Francisco. He'd expected moving in with his girlfriend and going to art school to be a change. What he didn't count on was the Merlin, the handsome fashion design student he'd be sharing their apartment with. And just how strongly he would feel about him.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur searched through a sea of bobbing heads for Gwen's unmistakable honey-brown locks. He had plenty of blond's to choose from, most of the bleached variety. It didn't worry him that he couldn't see his girlfriend amongst the faces at the arrival terminal. He didn't expect to. Hell would go on holiday before Gwen was early for anything. He grabbed the nearest luggage cart, not realizing that it had a gimp wheel; it took an annoying amount of effort to straighten it. If he wasn't so damn stubborn, he might have re-considered the wisdom of boarding a flight to Oakland with his entire life packed in two suitcases and an iPhone a blink away from death.

It wasn't until the last of his bags were loaded onto the crippled cart that Arthur noticed the young man with the teal scarf- pretending not to stare at him. He was pale as bone and almost as thin, leaning against a pillar with a cardboard sign. Arthur forced his luggage cart next to the man, wondering what kind of lunatic wears a scarf in August.

Arthur cleared his throat. "That's my name."

The man in the scarf looked down at the sharpie scribbled cardboard and shifted awkwardly, as if he wasn't sure how it had got into his hands in the first place.

"My name, on your sign," Arthur elaborated.

A smile parted pillow lips, blue eyes peering under a tussle of black hair. "I thought so," the young man said, offering his hand.

Arthur shook it automatically. The strangers fingers were slender, his grip surprisingly firm and as warm as his demeanor. When he unrolled from his slouch Arthur was able to get a better feel of how tall he was. The guy had an inch over him. Six foot at least. He couldn't say why but the revelation ticked him off.

"I've heard a lot about you, Arthur." The stranger smiled.

"And...who the hell are you?"

He didn't mean to sound crass. He'd just come off a six hour United Airlines flight, been fed nothing but peanuts and stuffed next to a painfully middle-aged woman. Even a saint can't feign interest in Persian cats for five hours. The flight was purgatory and he was in no mood for a game of 'guess who' at the airport with a nameless hipster.

The stranger grinned, putting down his sign. "I take it you haven't checked your phone in a while?"

Arthur fished his phone from his back pocket, swiped open the lock and prayed for a sliver of battery life. The phone's screen lit, flooding with missed texts from Gwen.

"I'll save you the trouble. Gwen called me this afternoon. Something came up; she's stuck working late tonight at the GAP tonight. 'Chino-gate' she called it. Apparently everyone and their mother wants a pair of chinos, can you believe that? She asked me if I could come pick you instead."

"And you are?"

"Merlin," The raven-haired man said, his low melodic voice cutting through the hum of the airport. "Merlin Emrys."

Finally Arthur was getting somewhere. _Merlin?_ No. Gwen had never mentioned anyone with strange that name before. Part of Arthur wondered if the guy standing in front of him was a scammer, but even if he was there was little need for concern. Whatever height he had over him, Arthur easily outclassed him in weight and muscle. By the look of the waif, he could be brought down with one good punch- but he would hate to make a scene at the airport if he didn't have to.

Merlin, as if sensing Arthur's apprehension, pulled out his own phone, fiddling with the screen and offering it up to Arthur's ear. "Here, listen," he said.

Arthur hesitated.

"It doesn't bite," Merlin added smoothly.

Gwen's voice cooed from depths of the speaker. Apparently, she did coin the phrase 'Chino-gate'. The guy was legit; the message on the phone was from his girlfriend. "So Merlin, like, the wizard?" Arthur asked casually. "You do magic tricks or something?"

"You mean cards?" Merlin replied, not caring to elaborate further. "I don't have enough for a cab, are you all right with taking BART?"

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "As in _The Simpsons_?"

"Ah right, out of Towner, BART's the acronym for 'Bay Public Rapid Transit'. It's the train system over here."

"Gwen didn't let you borrow her car?"

The tips of the pale man's ears reddened to the color of fresh sunburn. "I um... don't drive."

Arthur hooked one hand onto his cart, taking a swig of the stale backwash left in his water bottle. "Train's fine," he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

They ditched the cart before reaching the escalator, Merlin trying in vain to haul Arthur's luggage up the churning stairs. The suitcases barreled off the last step, one piece catching Merlin behind the leg, making him flounder and flail to stay standing. He had a lankiness that most people outgrow by their teens; a true lack of grace that was laughable. And it took Arthur an incredible amount of polite willpower not to do just that.

When they reached the BART station Arthur was asked for a five, Merlin fiddling with the machine till it spat out two tickets. "I'm sure you'll be an expert at the train once you start commuting to San Francisco for your classes," he said, handing Arthur a glossy white ticket.

_How does he know I'm starting school in the city? _Arthur wondered._ And just how much has Gwen told this stranger about me? _"I guess." He replied with a dry grunt.

"R_ichmond train now arriving on platform two_-" an electronic voice droned above. They boarded the train, sitting across from one another. Arthur's luggage filling the space meant for their legs. Arthur guessed it to be an off commute hour; the train was almost deserted. The seats were a stained, coarse green cloth, sticky to the touch. Every now and again he would smell a wafting nose full of stale piss. So this was his welcome to the Bay Area? Somehow he couldn't imagine taking this bio-hazard to school every day.

But today the reward waiting for him was worth the stress.

In hours he'd be with Gwen. See her playful smile, taste the caramel of her skin. They had maintained their long distance relationship for three years. Ever since she ditched her life in Indiana to get a fine arts degree in California. He had tried to guilt trip her into a program closer to home, in Chicago (a good compromise, in his opinion) but she'd never been romanced by the windy city. Sure, he hadn't been thrilled about the long distance thing- the fidelity issues. But they had been together since their senior year of high school and for Gwen he was willing to make it work. He'd had a fair share of girls in the past. Some he put jewelry on, others warmed his bed at night and were out by the morning. But out of all of them, Gwen was the only one he'd felt comfortable hanging out with. She didn't bombard him for compliments or assume that because his father was loaded that he should pay for every meal. He'd never had to stress with Gwen; they just co-existed peacefully in their own skins.

Part of him couldn't help but wonder if it would be the same, now that they were giving the couple thing a shot for real.

Arthur roused himself from his haze. "Merlin, do you know how much longer we have?" he asked. He was met with the clack of the train tracks and a deep nasal sound. Merlin's shoulders were lumped against the glass; his head lulling to the side, eyes closed. "Hey!" Arthur growled, shaking him from across the row. "Are you _sleeping_?"

"Am I what?" Merlin yawned, wiping a spot of drool off his chin.

"Asleep!"

"Possibly. How long was I out?"

"I don't know _how long you were asleep_. I just looked over and you were- Forget it. Did we miss our stop?"

"Dunno. What was the last one?"

"Mc-something or other."

Merlin stretched out his arms, curling comfortably into a ball in his seat. ""Oh, MacArthur. Were in good shape. I'll rest a bit more and we'll get off at the next."

"We almost missed our stop," Arthur growled. "Shouldn't you at least sit up so you don't nod off again?"

"Almost is a strange word," Merlin mused, his eyes half lidded like a sunning cat. "Have you ever noticed that almost never happens? Just like the word tomorrow it never really comes."

The grey streets blurred around them in their moving capsule. Arthur watching silently as sunlight cut across the high ridges of Merlin's cheekbones, his dark lashes still fighting the song of sleep. There was something incredibly off about Merlin Emrys. So off in fact, Arthur couldn't take his eyes off him.


	3. Chapter 3

To his credit, Merlin managed to stay awake the remaining fifteen minutes of their ride, the BART releasing them into the green bosom of a street called College Avenue. The sidewalks were dappled with sturdy oak trees; bicycles zipped past in gusts of wind. Cafe's dotted the street, filled to the brim with laptop clicking fingers and Blue-toothed ears. A dread-locked hippie at one corner crooned a poem about peace to passersby and Merlin flipped a quarter into his crocheted hat, complimenting him on his voice. Something about the skill of the flip made Arthur even less convinced that Merlin wasn't an amateur magician.

"The apartment's a short walk," Merlin announced, grabbing both suitcases. "Do you need to buy anything before we head over? Didn't forget your toothbrush, did you?"

Arthur wheedled the bags out of Merlin's hands. He was tempted to grab Merlin's own bag from him, but was certain the gesture would completely emasculate him. "No, I'm fine."

"So Arthur, is it your first time in California?"

"I went to Los Angeles once when I was a kid. Disneyland and all that..." A picture from that trip still sat on the mantel in father's living room. One of Arthur's few genuinely happy moments of childhood, when his father and stepmother weren't at each other's throats. He couldn't blame his stepmother for filing for divorcing after a tumultuous seven years. He'd only wished she'd fought harder for full custody of his stepsister Morgan.

Merlin sighed, tapping his fingers rhythmically on his bag. He stared straight ahead and asked. "So you've never visited Oakland before, or even San Francisco? Brave of you to up and move somewhere you've never been."

"Hardly," Arthur replied. "Gwen's been wheedling to come up for two years, and this year in Indiana we had coldest winter in 20 years. It's been snowing since November, and I spent my months shoveling and salting it out of the driveway. You could say I'm looking forward to some sun."

"You'll be majoring in industrial design at CCAC right?"

_Strange_, Arthur thought. _This guy even knows my major_. But all he said in reply was, "Yeah."

"What do you think of Oakland so far?"

"I've been off the plane for less than an hour so I'll reserve judgment. But I can say without bias that it's sunny."

"It is, but its no So-cal," Merlin replied. He shifted the bag at his shoulder, his scarf slipping down his neck, exposing ivory skin. "Don't let it fool you. Always dress in layers, first rule of the Bay Area."

The luggage wheels clicked cheerily down the sidewalk. They were moving away from cafes and into residential streets. Passing brown picket fences and imposing Craftsman's that looked large enough to house generations within. Arthur didn't know why he asked it. Curiosity? The realization that he knew nothing about his girlfriend's odd friend except that he knew far too much about him. "So Merlin, how do you know Gwen?"

"Were in the same year at CCAC," Merlin shrugged. "And we're roommates, of course."

The words were a punch in Arthur's gut. "Wait, I thought she lived alone-"

Merlin stumbled over a root in the sidewalk, his eyes briefly meeting Arthur's before looking back to his sneakers. "She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

The sentence jumbled together as if it was a single word. "A downstairs unit opened up at her place, and she was able to switch the studio for a two bedroom. It's a ton more space but she couldn't afford the full rent so I split the lease with her."

"When did that happen?"

"Two months ago."

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. Two months? For two months his girlfriend had been living with a dude and she didn't have the decency to tell him? She didn't tell him, did she? No, he couldn't remember a single text, email, or call mentioning her moving in with a guy. He would have vetoed that shit right off the bat. "So you and Gwen are _friends_?" he said, making sure to over emphasize the last word.

"Yes," Merlin exhaled. "Just a friend from school who needed a place to live."

Arthur's skin bristled. It would be one thing if the guy standing next to him were a troll. But he was- attractive, albeit in an unusual way. A strange and unprocessed handsome Arthur couldn't quite put to words. In silence they reached the apartment, a modest brown shingle building with a medieval steel gate. Arthur wouldn't go as far as to call the neighborhood ghetto, but it was borderline sketch. He saw the break off once they passed Telegraph Avenue. Perfectly manicured lawns retreating into older homes with peeling paint and iron bars. Merlin struggled with the gate until it clicked open. The inside of the apartment building was a hidden oasis. A lush common lawn in the center, and a BBQ pit shadowed by redwoods.

Arthur was led to a corner unit with a small patio and potted plants dotting the front entrance. "This is the one," Merlin said, then he unlocked the front door, unlacing his black Converse string by string.

"Gwen's still gardening, I see." Arthur replied.

"We just bought-I mean, Gwen thought succulents were the only plants that would stand a chance against me so we picked some up-" Arthur was about to step inside when Merlin caught hold of his arm. "Take your off your shoes, please," he said lightly. "You'll track mud on the floor."

The unexpected contact prickled Arthur's skin. He didn't feel right. Not sick exactly. Tired, hungry for sure. He pulled off his Nike's and left them by the door. The living room was spacious but held little more than a white IKEA couch and an old model television perched on a milk crate. The dining room was a similar deal. Metal patio table with three chairs. A garage sale poster taped to the wall displaying two kittens stuffed in clothes, smoking in a bathroom stall. The epitome of the 'Starving artists', Arthur thought with a chuckle. He plopped himself down on the couch as if he had always lived there and asked. "When does Gwen get off work?"

"I'll text her," Merlin said, pulling his phone from his gray skinny jeans with some difficulty. "Go ahead and put your stuff in her room, she won't mind. It's down the hall to the left."

* * *

Gwen's room looked like her. Spotless. With the same prissy white bedroom set she had in Indiana. The same bed frame they had tumbled in and out of together a thousand times. Arthur sunk into the down comforter, drawing it to his stubbly chin. It even smelled like her, a distinct bouquet of Downy laundry detergent with just a hint of coconut oil. The same oil she'd have him rub on her skin before she slept, as both moisturizer and enticement.

The walls were the hallmark hospital white of cheap apartments, livened up with photos. Some were neatly framed but most crudely tacked. Clothing torn from fashion magazines, photo shoots with sullen fish-faced models photo shopped beyond reason. Arthur was relieved to see Gwen keep touches of their shared past. Photos from a Catholic youth group trip at Lake Michigan and a photo from senior prom. She looked like Cinderella, wrapped in sequins with gold glistening from her ears and throat, him a per-hour prince charming in a sauvé rental suit. Next to the prom picture she'd pinned something more recent, a Polaroid of her and Merlin. Gwen was in pink duck-facing the camera, Merlin looking the shy puppy in the exact same color palette he was wearing today but a wine scarf.

_Just how many scarves did this guy own?_

A raven head popped in the room. _Speak of the devil_, thought Arthur with a sigh.

"She say's she'll be back in hour or two and to start dinner without her. You hungry?" Merlin smiled.

"Famished." And he was, his stomach tying in knots. "They only serve rabbit food on flights nowadays."

"Well, I'm afraid you might have a similar problem at Chez Merlin. But I'll do my best."

_Hm._

The door shut. Arthur laid his luggage on its side, found a clean shirt, tossing out a government inspection card with it. He always got checked; what about his underwear and toothbrush read terrorist? He'd have to ask Gwen where she wanted him to put all his stuff. He'd have to ask her a lot of things. Once he was dressed, he opened the closet, just for a peek. He didn't know what he expected to find in there. Skeletons? Written admissions of a sordid love affair with a certain new roommate? Something about Merlin still didn't sit right with him.

The closet was full of nothing but clothes and shoes. Candy colored and painstakingly arranged.

He felt like a tool.


	4. Chapter 4

True to his word, the meal Merlin laid out on bamboo placements looked like it was flown in from a third world country. He called to Arthur from the belly of the galley kitchen. "What would you like to drink? We have water, juice-"

"Do you have any beer?"

"Corona ok?"

"It'll do."

He came out with the bottle tucked under his arm and his striped sleeves rolled up to the elbows. As he flopped down in his seat, pouring the amber liquid into a chilled glass, Arthur could make out the ebony lines of a tattoo. The work took up the underside of the left forearm, a realistic black and white rendering of a pair of scissors. "Sorry, no lemon wedges," Merlin said, sliding the drink across the table.

Arthur was hardly expecting lemons let alone a chilled glass. He noticed casually that Merlin only brought out the one beer and nothing for himself. The first sip was bliss as it hit his tongue. Exactly what he had needed six hours ago.

"Do have any food allergies?"

_Why bother to ask when you're already dishing a mountain of it on my plate_? Arthur thought.

"It's a vegan recipe," Merlin said in between bites. "It calls for chicken stock but I substitute with veggie and add almonds in for protein. The kalamata olives are what give it the extra flavor."

"So what is vegan exactly?" Arthur moaned, poking the grainy creature staring back at him with his fork. "The even more extreme cult of the vegetarian?"

Merlin bit his lip, suspending his fork mid air.

_Shit. He'd offended him._

"What would you prefer to eat?" Merlin asked mildly.

"Nothing, it's just-" Arthur searched for a polite excuse. "I'm used to a dinner you need to grill a little, if you know what I mean."

"Like a steak?" Merlin said, raising his eyebrow. "Sorry, I don't keep meat in the house. If you want meat you're going to have to hunt it yourself."

"Then it's a good thing I know my way around a gun when the fifteenth of November rolls around."

"The fifteenth?"

"Deer season," Arthur said, peppering his plate. "And I'm a damn good shot. Got a beautiful 3.5 year old buck last year that weighted in at 180. My dad even had him mounted."

"That's disgusting."

"Trust me, hunting deer is less disgusting than eating this..."

Torches lit behind blue glass eyes, a half smile curling Merlin's full lips. "If you're such a brave sportsman, then certainly you can man up a little and try what I've made?" He mused. "If you did, you might realize it's not as bad as you think."

There was a freshly competitive atmosphere at the table, and Arthur was more than game. "Fine," he said, separating the food into piles with his fork. "I'll eat, but with conditions. I ask you a question, you give me a simple, honest, answer. You do that and I'll take a bite of this stuff. Sound fair?"

"Okay, but I hardly see what's in it for-"

"Are you fucking my girlfriend?"

Merlin froze. Back straight, pale skin bleaching even further. He looked like a still frame in a Tim Burton movie. He took a moment to digest the accusation, flushed a brilliant scarlet and whispered "Of course not."

"It would be stupid of you to lie to me-"

"If you're having issues with Gwen, I'm not the one you should be talking-"

"I just find it _odd_ Merlin, that you're on such _friendly_ terms. Living with her for two months alone without my-"

Merlin slapped his napkin to the table. "I already told you, Gwen and I are just _friends_," He snapped. "If you're having problems in your relationship then you need to take it up with your girlfriend and keep me out of it. Enjoy your dinner Arthur; order a pizza for all I care. I've lost my appetite."

The front door slammed, leaving Arthur alone in a new apartment, in a new state, in complete silence. He shoveled a bite of lentils into his mouth. It was different. Gritty and foreign to his taste buds, yet there was a potent mingling of flavor. He put his fork down. He wouldn't say he was won over, but to his surprise he didn't hate it.

* * *

He found Merlin in the parking lot, hovering over an oil stain next to the rusted shell of a Toyota Camry. He was wrapped up like a cocoon in his black sweater; invisible in the darkness, save for the billowing cloud of his cigarette. He heard Arthur's footsteps, and exhaled a ring of smoke with an annoyed whistle.

"Mind if I join you?" Arthur asked.

"This is my last one," Merlin said, flicking ash to the ground.

"It's fine. I don't smoke."

"They only chew tobacco in Indiana?"

Why was it that the first defense of a Californian was always to attack the Midwest like it was full of backward hicks? "Are vegans even allowed to smoke?" Arthur asked briskly, sliding next to Merlin against the car. "Isn't smoking counter intuitive to the whole being healthy thing?"

"Counter intuitive?" Merlin's voice was all seriousness, but a familiar grin had found its way back to him. "You sound like a business major."

"My father would be pleased to hear that"

"But yes," he agreed, taking another drag. "It's a filthy habit. One I'm supposed to be quitting."

"Then throw it away and stop tonight."

Merlin's gaze struck fast like an arrow to its mark, making Arthur's palms feel uncomfortably moist. They were were unflinching pools. Eyes that didn't pass over what they saw but drank in what were set before them. Giving Arthur the impression that even this mundane conversation held more, and what was most important was that which was still unspoken. He swallowed. "Hey look Merlin, I'm sorry about-"

"It's cool," Merlin said, warmth pulling back into his words. "I get it. It's only natural under the circumstances that you'd be suspicious. I didn't mean to spring it on you; honestly I assumed she would have told you the situation before you arrived."

"You're fine with the arrangement then?"

"Sure. You'll be paying $500 a month? What problem could I have with paying less rent? I spend most of my weeknights in the studio anyway. You'll have plenty of space and when the lease is up at the end of the year you two lovebirds can look for a cozy little nest of your own."

"You're a decent guy," Arthur said, not realizing he'd said it until it was too late. "Would you mind, you know, not mentioning any of this to Gwen?"

Merlin killed his cigarette under his heel. "I won't if you promise not to cook meat on my stove," he said, with a grin. "I don't like the smell of it. If you've got to, use the barbecue outside, ok?"

Arthur nodded as his companion rose to his feet, turning to the moonlit skeleton of the outside gate. "I'm meeting a friend at Aroma Cafe, shouldn't be past midnight," Merlin said, unlocking the gate. "Tell Gwen there's a Tupperware in the fridge for her. I know _she'll_ eat it."

It was a not so subtle dig, thought Arthur. But after how ungracious he had acted today-not entirely undeserved.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin pushed open the door; silver bells on it's handle singing his arrival. The cafe felt like a long lived in home. Its rich adobe walls hung heavy with frames, air perfumed with a blunt mix of coffee grounds and orange zest. He walked straight to the back, not bothering to glance at the colorful chalkboard menu and greeting the nymph of a girl behind the counter with a solitary wave. She smiled, revealing a crooked canine and the glint of a tongue ring as she spoke. "Merlin, you my reinforcement tonight?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Freya," he replied, passing through a break in the counter to join her by the espresso machine. "I'm just passing through."

"Seriously, why do you come here on your days off?" She asked, sloshing her mop into a muddied water bucket. "Don't you get enough of this place?"

"I'm meeting a friend, and I like to go where the drinks are free." Merlin laughed. He let his fingers, as if retaining memory of their own, pluck the ingredients hidden within in the tiny prep station. He knew every inch of the cluttered space, from its shelf of chipped coffee cups to the stack of dishrags piled high on the dryer out back. There was no glamor in his part time job at Aroma, making coffee for the hung-over and caffeine addicted citizens of the East Bay. But it helped pay the rent and like any job had its perks. Particularly co-workers who didn't think twice about letting him have drinks on the house. When his hands finished their task, Merlin was left with a silky concoction of flavors blended in a round-bellied pitcher. He screeched the espresso machine to life, cradling the bottom of the pitcher and tilting it until the liquid frothed.

"That's all foam," Freya observed. "It'll have no taste."

"I know," Merlin said, pouring the weightless froth into a ceramic mug. "That's how I like it."

She half-smilingly shook her head at him, cloth tassels of her mop slapping as they hit the tile floor. With a light goodbye and a sip of his airy creation Merlin stepped outside to look for his friend. The tables were deserted; his only company at the moment a blurry gang of moths worshipping a light above the trash can. With no humans nearby to complain, Merlin lit up and waited. He could smell Lance's cologne before he saw him. Armani Code, if he wasn't mistaken. Lance's face bore the shadow of a frown, sky blue polo shirt noticeably wrinkled as if he'd worn a jacket over it most of the day.

"Merlin, you told me you were quitting," Lance said, untucking a white portfolio from his arm. "I thought you meant it this time-"

Merlin looked down to his American Spirit, then back up to the moths. New players were joining in the courtship of the bulb. But they didn't seem to be making progress either. "Unexpected setback," he replied.

"How'd the interview go?"

"I got the internship."

"Lance, that's great!"

"Thanks for the support Mer, but it's not impressive as you think," the brown haired man said, batting a moth from his face. He seated his portfolio on a chair, then pulled one out for himself. "I have a family friend who is close with one of the project managers. The firm does mostly residential architecture so it's not what I was hoping for, but a guy has to start somewhere, right?"

Merlin tilted his chair back on its hind legs. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself; paying internships are hard to come by. Most of us poor art students take crappy jobs at places like, you know, coffee shops." He smiled.

"Fair enough," Lance said, settling his elbows on the table. "So, enjoying the last of vacation before the tortures of junior year?"

The chair thudded back to the ground. "I guess," Merlin shrugged. "I picked up the new housemate today."

"You mean the boyfriend," Lance replied. "_He's_ here?"

"He has a name, you know-"

"Prince freaking Arthur, as if I'd forget. He was all sGwen talked about when we had dinner at Yoshi's last week. Industrial design major, was it?"

Merlin nodded. He was well aware that Lance had a fat crush on Gwen, and couldn't help but feel partially responsible for his suffering. He'd introduced them sophomore year. One flick of her caramel hair and Lance had plunged like a lemming off a cliff. Ever since that day Lance would ask Merlin questions about Gwen in an off-handed way. Invite her to any party however small, or make up parties, for that matter-

"So, what's Mr. Perfect like anyway?" Lance asked.

Merlin snuffed out his cigarette out in the glass ashtray and thought for a moment, dredging Arthur's face from the depths of his memory, where he'd hidden it. The copper sheen of long bangs, blue eyes, not the deep brooding blue of his own eyes but a blue as clean as a running stream. A body the Greeks would have set to marble. All this came to mind, but Merlin settled with, "Blond."

"I know that," Lance said, loosening the neck of his shirt. "I've seen his Facebook photos, they're all so-" he waved a hand in the air as if tying to summon the word.

"Abercrombie," Merlin offered, hiding his blush behind a sip of his drink.

"Yeah. But how's the guy's personality?"

"He's a bit cocky. We've had a spat already."

"I can't imagine it. You're so mellow-"

"I don't think he likes my cooking," Merlin said, putting his cigarette box back into his pocket. "That and he thought I was sleeping with his girlfriend."

Lances laughter was barely contained, its force echoing into an empty street. He wiped the gleam of a tear from his eye and said. "For real? Doesn't' he know your practically A-sexual?"

"Ha-ha. Have a good laugh at my expense-"

"Come on Mer, I'm not trying to rip on you. But you haven't had a relationship since freshman year. Honestly, sometimes you worry me."

Merlin would have been livid if Lance weren't dead right. The last relationship he'd had was over a year ago. A brief fling with a sandy haired boy name Will, a childhood friend who since their school days had given Merlin the impression that he was eager to become more. It took New Years Eve and four drinks for Will to get his wish, and within a month they were broken up. Merlin swearing to himself as he emptied every bottle of alcohol he owned into the toilet that he would never get wasted again. "I didn't realize my romantic life, or lack there of, was so interesting to you," he said, returning his empty mug to a tub above the trashcan. "If anything changes you'll be the first to know, but don't get your hopes up. At present I'm engaged to my Juki industrial sewing machine and he's very high maintenance."

"All work and no play-" Lance teased.

"Gets Merlin straight A's," Merlin quipped. "Can I get you something to drink? We still haven't celebrated your new internship."

"I could go for coffee, thanks."

He hovered at the trashcan, waiting. He knew what was coming, but couldn't stifle a sigh as he heard what he was expecting.

"I had really hoped this Arthur guy wouldn't last," Lance sighed, his expression grim. "That he was just a leftover teen crush that she'd work out of her system..."

"I should have guessed you'd have ulterior motives when you suggested coffee. You know, Lance, they make restraining orders for people like you-"

"Trust me, I'm trying to get over Gwen, Scouts honor. But the more I tell myself not to think about her, the worse it gets."

Above Merlin's head the moths pounded the tinted light, the powder of their wings dusting the night as they flew. He plucked at the air, catching one of the glittering insects in his hand. He could feel it quiver there, trapped against his palm. The velvet movement of its wings frantic, like a beating of a tiny heart. "You and these moths," he said, uncurling his fingers so that the moth perched ornamented on his knuckle. With a shake it flew back to its mission. "Why not give it up?"

"Some things are worth the struggle," Lance smiled, looking at the yellow sliver of the moon that hung low on the skyline. "I can't explain it to you Merlin. You'll understand one day if you're lucky."

The words gave Merlin a sickness he couldn't shake. "If you're talking about love," he groaned, the bells on the door chanting, visions of Arthur still swimming laps in his mind. "Don't waste your time Lance. It's not for me."


	6. Chapter 6

Gwen staggered in the door at quarter to nine. Spying Arthur at the table, she ditched her purse and jumped him with a tackle that would make an offensive lineman proud. "Arthur," she called, ringlets spilling across his face. "You're here! I knew you look good, darling, but how do you feel? Are you half dead?"

"Zombified," he yawned, stretching the full length of the couch. "Totally exhausted."

She barraged him with kisses, throwing her over-sized gap sweatshirt across the room as if it were poisoned. "I don't know about you, but I could sure use a drink, will you join me?"

Arthur moved to the dining room table. A cupboard hinge cried and a cork popped, Gwen coming back with two coffee mugs of full of red wine. "This is for tonight. It was meant to celebrate us, though I'm not sure you deserve it. I texted you all day and I couldn't get through and now I see you stole my Corona. Very naughty, Mr. Pendragon."

He wrapped a hand around the half moon of her waist, tickling her as she handed him his mug. He'd almost forgotten just how tiny she was. How easily his arms encircled her. "I regret nothing. And for the record, it was your _roommate _who offered it."

"How dare he," she smiled. "We have rules in this house about stealing. Where is Mer, anyway? He head out for the night?"

Arthur thought back to the driveway. The circles of smoke and the pink lips that so effortlessly formed them. He cleared his throat. "Some place called Aroma. There's a Tupperware of leftovers, do want me to heat it up for you?"

"That'd be great, my feet are killing me."

He released her, taking his dirty dinner dishes into the kitchen. There weren't any paper towels, but a stainless steel dishwasher glistened by the sink, so he wedged the plate in. When he opened the fridge, he found it greener than a meadow in springtime. "I take it your roommate does most of the cooking?" He exhaled.

"Yep."

"And you're cool with that?

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, for one I've heard a terrible rumor that he's a vegan."

"Oh, that," she said, tossing her hair back. "You know me, I would never give up cheddar, but I compromised as a lenient Vegetarian. Actually, I've lost a few pounds already."

He popped the food in the microwave, set it for two minutes, and came back to her. "How very Californian of you. Apparently there are a lot you've been hiding from me, Guinevere-"

She took a sip of wine from her Garfield mug. "Cryptic much?"

"For starters, couldn't you have mentioned before I've packed up my life and flown across the state that you're living with circa 1980 Morrissey?"

"Morrissey?" I don't see it; Merlin's cuter than that. And since when do you listen to The Smiths?"

Arthur hadn't realized the extent of his anger. But the more he thought about the predicament at hand, the more his blood boiled. The more he wanted to make Gwen pay for what she'd hidden from him. "Don't change the subject," he growled. "I thought me moving up here meant us living alone, just the two of us. I thought the whole point was for us to be on our own as a couple, not to share an apartment with some weird-"

"It wasn't realistic, Arthur, the rent in the Bay Area is crazy! Yes, I get it; I should have told you more about the apartment situation before you came. But you're here now, you're free, just let it go. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to Merlin."

Arthur trudged back into the kitchen, relishing the excuse not to look at her. Pulling out the steaming Tupperware and yanking at drawers until he found the one hiding silverware. "Why, does he have a girlfriend?" he replied, tossing Gwen's food in front of her.

"All the girls in the fashion department- except me of course, can't get enough of him. But to he's never dated any of them. He's never even brought anyone home."

"Wait, Merlin's in _fashion_ with you?" Slowly the pieces of her sentence linked together in Arthur's mind. "Are you telling me he's a queer?"

"First off, there are a ton of straight male designers in the industry. Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein, Yohji Yamamoto just to name a few. And second," she snapped, picking up her fork. "I hate that word. It's derogatory and you won't use it in this house, ever."

Finally it made sense. The reason Gwen had hidden having a roommate from him. Conveniently forgetting to tell him about it for two months. Arthur leaned back in his chair. "Unbelievable. Damn it, Gwen, you know how I feel about that lifestyle. It's not…normal."

The words could have been plucked from his father's own mouth. His father, who only months ago when Arthur told him what school he wanted to attend, had lectured him from the leather throne of his Lazy Boy chair. "The California College Of The Arts, _San Francisco_?" Uther had spat, Arthur's letter of acceptance to CCAC clutched in those hairy hands of his. "You think I'm paying for my son to go to some faggot school?" It had taken Arthur a month to convince his father that in fact, not everyone in San Francisco was homosexual, and that the school was a duel campus, one building in Oakland another in San Francisco, and he would be living in Oakland. This seemed to settle Uther, or at least loosen him up enough to have a discussion. And once Arthur told him his plans to move in with his girlfriend, the old man was finally willing to write a check to the school and agree on the amount for Arthur's living stipend. His father would never understand his son's desire to move to a city with such a liberal reputation, but apparently skirt chasing was something Uther sympathized with.

Gwen slammed her fork down, rousing Arthur from his thoughts. Her dark eyes rich were with rage. Even angry she had a determined aura about her; Gwen, his modern Joan of Arc. "It's not a lifestyle choice, Arthur, it's the way some people are born. And I don't even know for certain if he's gay. It's not like I've gone up and asked him!"

_"_How can you say it's not a choice?" Arthur replied curtly "Who you sleep with is as much a choice as what you put on in the morning or what you-"

"Oh come off it, Arthur! By that crappy logic one could deduce that you and I just chose to be straight one day?"

Arthur's voice caught in his throat. "And what am I supposed to do if he starts hitting on me?" He swallowed. "You considered that?"

"Give me a break!" Gwen said, obviously annoyed that her temper was heating while her meal was cooling. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you are not as irresistible as you think you are."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Fine. Whatever. It's done. I don't want to talk about him anymore. It's killing my mood."

"Does this mean you're staying?"

Arthur pulled her up onto his lap. "I can't believe the crap I put up with for you."

"You'll have to be nice, ok?"

He crept his fingers up her thigh, pausing at the hem of her skirt. "I'll show you how nice I can be-"

"Stop it brute," she chuckled, slapping his hand away. "And finish your wine."

"It's no beer."

"You'll be a fan. I'll take you wine tasting up in Napa, make a real Californian of you yet."

"That'll be the day," he mumbled into her hair. Through the strands of golden floss he saw the front door, a thought tugging. "What's the roommate etiquette in this place, can we finish the bottle or do we have to save what's-his-face a glass?'

"Merlin doesn't drink," she breathed, unbuttoning the front of his shirt, her body smelling vaguely of coconut.

"Doesn't drink, doesn't drive, doesn't eat real food, doesn't have sex with women. What does Merlin do?" Arthur asked coolly. "Besides smoke?"

"He's the top student in the department. Everything he makes is freaking magic," Gwen replied, freeing the last of Arthur's shirt buttons. Her acrylic nails played with the sculpted lines of his chest, her mouth kissing the ridges of muscle before she moved her attentions lower, to his brass buckle. "But _I don't want to talk about him anymore," _she parroted wickedly._ "It's killing my mood." _


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur's first week in his new home had him feeling like a seasick voyager, fresh on land and gathering his bearings. The city of Oakland was gritty, colorful and loud with life. He was beginning to learn through experience which neighborhoods had pleasant streets and well kept houses and which, with their graffiti threats, were best avoided altogether. He took to exercising when Gwen was at work, and when she came home they made up for lost time. They made love. Streamed episodes of "The Walking Dead" (Arthur joking that if a zombie apocalypse did arrive, he'd be more then capable of defending and repopulating the world himself) snuggling into one another and when the episode finished, only to make love again.

He took her Honda in for an oil change (reprimanding her for not having it done so in a year) and last but not least bought an easel, masking tape and a large canvas tarp, so that by the end of Thursday night he had constructed a small but functional painting space in the corner of the living his relief, he saw little of his new roommate that first week. The only conversation he had with Merlin since their awkward first night was an occasional goodbye as he slipped out the door. However, there will still signs that he was about. The steamy fog trail left from the long showers Merlin took in the morning. Glimpses of him slipping into his room, dressed only in shorts and a loose band-fitting tees. And of course the Tupperware containers of leftover hippie meals in the fridge.

By the start of his classes on Monday, Arthur was happy for a change of pace. Being a transfer student with community college units under his belt meant skipping most of his humanities and sciences, and going straight into the bulk of his major requirements. The CCAC building was a designer's wet dream. Massive steal beams, and glass curving into albino walls. The design studios were equipped above and beyond Arthur's expectations. His teachers accomplished in their fields, but without the ego that plagued so many artists. It was as if for once in his life all that he desired was falling neatly into place.

Then he had to go and fuck it up by getting iced coffee.

The pleasure of accomplishment came to Arthur with each gulp of air, each extension of his already burning calf muscles. He ran down the uniform sidewalk; sweat dripping from every pore, pooling the collar of his shirt. He stopped at stop sign at the corner, whipping his melting face against his arm and shaking moisture out of his hair. The sun hung low in the sky. So orange and ripe that he imagined plucking it and taking a bite as if it were an orange. He opened his water bottle, sucking the last of the droplets.

His throat was still roasting.

He turned to his right, taking in the chipped glass windows and weeds in cracked concrete. A mechanic shop by the look of the place, he'd have no luck there. The left seemed promising. A boutique and a building with a weathered sandwich board out front. Aroma Cafe. Hadn't he heard that name before? The door handle jingled like Santa's sleigh as he entered. It was a quaint little place; the coloring rich and earthy. He walked up to the counter and read the mural of a menu with its caricatured in chalk descriptions. He plucked out his ear buds, put his iPod on pause, and said, "I'll have an iced-"

There was a glint of metal. A pitcher spun in air, crashing to the tile, it's liquid spraying in all directions. The barista swore under his breath; Arthur watching in startled amusement as the man leaned down, his face splattered with water. Cheeks pinked with embarrassment. "You work here?" Arthur asked, much louder then he had realized.

Merlin nodded, shaking the spill off his hands, then wiping his face off on his apron. "A few days a week," he replied sheepishly. "I'm so sorry, did I spill that on you? Can I get you a towel-"

Arthur's eyelids startled. Who, me? No I'm just wet with reeking sweat, he thought to himself. He decided to own it, cracking his neck as he said coolly, "'I'm fine, just been jogging. Its part of my workout routine, an hour a day. I don't usually go this route-"

Arthur noticed Merlin wasn't looking at his eyes anymore, but he was certainly inspecting everything else.

"You wanted, an…Iced coffee?" Merlin stammered.

Arthur let a thin smile paint his lips as he caught Merlin staring. He'd made a grown man blush. A first. "How much do I owe you?" Arthur asked, pulling out his wallet slowly from his shorts.

"On the house," Merlin replied, turning away again. "Sit where you like, I'll bring it out when it's done." Then he busied himself in front of a stainless steel fridge, their conversation obviously over. From behind the counter a pretty chocolate haired girl had brought a mop to clean the mess. As Arthur walked away, seating himself at a chair by the window he could just make out her voice over the slosh of mopping.

"That guy is gorgeous, and _so_ checking you out," she whispered to Merlin. "Tell me you're going to at least get his number?"

Merlin went ridged, his eyes pleading for silence. He shot a look at Arthur, who had put his ear buds back in, pretending his paused iPod was playing. It seemed to be enough to convince Merlin that Arthur couldn't hear their conversation. "Keep it down Freya, that's my roommate, okay?" he whispered back.

She laughed, and said, "I think I know which room he's been sleeping in-"

"You mean his _girlfriend's_ room, the one I share the house with." Merlin snapped.

Freya's face dropped. "Oh," she said, picking her mop up, giving the blond by window a questioning look. "Right."

Merlin ignored her, mixing the ice and coffee together and popping on a plastic lid. He slid out from behind the counter and walked cautiously up to Arthur's table. Arthur waited, hearing Merlin's footsteps through his silent ear buds but pretending otherwise. Merlin cleared his throat. Tapped his foot on the ground and with a childish shyness stuttered, "Um, I- That is- your drink's done."

Arthur took out his ear buds for a second time, flashed his patented panty-dropping smile and said, " You're stuttering. Do I make you- nervous?"

"Yes- no- of course not!" Merlin flustered, his Adams apple bobbing as he spoke. "I _am_ working you know, so um. Well, Just come up to the counter if you need anything."

Bothering Merlin was proving an enjoyable pastime, Arthur thought wickedly. From his jumpy reactions at Arthur's workout gear, to the hushed conversations he'd had with his co-worker, there was no question in Arthur's mind that the guy was gay. And if he wasn't mistaken, a little enamored by him.

Of course he would never reciprocate. But- at the very least... couldn't he test the power he had over Merlin? Toy with him a bit?

"Anything?" Arthur asked suggestively.

Arthur knew women, was used to the adoration of schoolgirls who hid from a mere glimpse of his handsome face. The man in front of him may have been embarrassed, but he was hardly the hapless schoolgirl. Merlin's cheeks were red, but he stood firm. He crossed his arms; looked Arthur straight and the eye and said in a silken voice, "Try me."

Damn it. _Too far._

All of a sudden Arthur was back in high school. Looking at the long colorless wall of tile, the silver shower heads curved up like snakes in the men's locker room. Re-living the feelings that had cornered him every time he set foot inside. Sensations he had written off as a lingering adrenaline rush. Sensations he had shut down, fought, and strangled at all costs until he could quench his lust later with a girl and an hour-long screw. He tried desperately to shake the growing desire from his body, but it was firmer then his resolve. The control he'd reveled in only minutes ago stripped from him. What the hell was _this_? He was Arthur Pendragon, flirter extraordinaire. Was he really going to be so affected by a good-looking gay boy with an affinity for scarves?

Merlin was still beside him, his tall figure back-lit, a grin sitting beautifully on the bows of a closed mouth.

_Oh god that mouth..._

Arthur cleared his throat. "Well," he coughed. "A to go cup, perfect. See you around-"

He turned tail before Merlin had a chance to speak. The door of the cafe slamming, bells shouting after him. Every ounce of him wanted to wipe the grin off Merlin's face. To punish him, in a slow and delicious fashion for making him feel so bothered. So... vulnerable. But instead, he jogged full force back to the apartment, back to Gwen, until Arthur was certain the pale man with the ridiculous smile was far behind him.

* * *

She looked like a nymph, cheeks ripe as blossoms, her golden body sinking into the white sheets. Arthur watched the falling of her ribcage, each breath pulling in and out like the tide. "Arthur that was- wow," Gwen exhaled.

Arthur smiled, melting into a pillow beside her. Half asleep in a room that was so quiet and so white, a person could mistake it for heaven._ See_, he told himself. _Everything is fine_. _What you felt before, that was the anomaly. What is Merlin to you but a passing fancy? A light flirtation at the very worst, but this_- he stared into Gwen's face for reassurance. Her amber eyes, ruby lips. _This is real. Normal. It's where you belong_.

said it over, and over, and over again,. Until he began once more to believe it.


	8. Chapter 8

How Gwen had managed to run in three-inch heels without breaking an ankle, Merlin couldn't say. But she was at his side, rosy cheeked from the exertion. Her cream dress billowing at her knees with each pass of the standing fan in the corner. Merlin had just finished ordering tea at the school cafe, eyes heavy from the hours of sleep insomnia had stolen from him. He gave Gwen a wink as he grabbed their drinks off the counter, stirring creamer into one and blowing on the other. He handed her the drink with the creamer.

"What do I owe you?" she asked, pushing a red straw in the opening at the top.

"Forget it," he replied. "You got the last ones."

She nodded, linking his arm and hustling him into the cement hallway. It was 8:00am, the school flooding with groggy students. A few of them, it appeared, had never left. Their bodies cramped on the black couches near the library, dead asleep. They walked passed them quietly as possible, through a long concrete hallway hung with student work.

"Guess what's up on the design bulletin board?" Gwen asked as she opened the door to the fashion design studio.

It was dark as pitch, too early for even the teacher to be in. Merlin flipped on the light switch, the neon glow illuminating rows of motionless dress forms. The room had a chalky smell to it, gained from years of accumulating dust and fabric cuttings. Merlin secured one of the taller stools for himself, screeching it up to a giant table. "Dunno. Pictures from Kat's birthday party?" He asked, pulling his paper patterns off a hanging rack at the back of the classroom. "I left early that night. Was she ever able to get all that chocolate out of the inflatable pool?"

"Even better," Gwen replied. "It's the info on this years 'Art Of Fashion Foundation' competition. You're entering, aren't you?"

He shot a grin then replied with faint, "Maybe"

"Oh, shut up. Let me guess, you already knew?" She chuckled, putting her purse on the table.

Merlin's grin grew wider. "Yep. I've been stalking their website for months."

"So you know what the prize this year is?"

"Paris," he exhaled. " And a four week design technique workshop at the Louvre, no less. Just imagine it, couture capital of the world. Tell me you're going to enter too?"

"Either that or look for an internship. Have you done any sketching yet, Merlin?"

_Had he started sketching?_ Merlin thought, warming his throat with a tidal wave of green tea. _Only every second I'm not working_.  
He had holed up in his room every evening for a month, staying up till three in the morning brainstorming. It had been exactly what he needed, a goal. A project he could throw himself into to break the distraction he had been feeling lately. Distraction that came in the form of a certain handsome blond- who just happened to be his roommate's boyfriend. He rifled through his lumpy satchel and pulled out a sketchbook, then slipped out a postcard marker and passed it to Gwen. She dove into the sketchbook hungrily, teeth catching her plump lower lip as she studied the painted bodies of his male fashion croquis.

"Merlin I love it," Gwen whispered, her fingers tracing the lines of the gauche work. "The layered pocketing, the contrast lining and faux leather details on the coat-" her face fell. "Only you would be crazy enough to think of making a coat."

"Tailoring is a blast," Merlin laughed. "All that steaming and pressing-"

She clapped the sketchbook book shut. "Well, I've decided, the internship it is. There is no way I'm competing with this. Merlin, this outfit is going to be unstoppable in your hands-"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know-"

"Oh come on Mer, drop the false modesty-"

"I'm serious," he replied. "I've only been sketching menswear pieces, and you know we only have one male dress form in the studio."

"And it's way too big for runway work," she responded quickly.

"Exactly, I'll have to scrape the money together to buy a dress form which will be hard enough, not to mention finding the right fit model to perfect the muslin mock ups on..."

Their fellow fashion students trickled into the classroom, wheeling squeaking dress forms and clambering for decent seats. Gwen ducked a passing metal stool held by a snotty looking redhead and said, "That part seems manageable enough."

"I suppose-" It was then Merlin spied their teacher, Barbra, slipping in through the side door. A wiry older woman with a beef jerky complexion and a short temper. She stared at the chatting students, wearing the same flat expression she always had on weekday mornings. Merlin sighed. "Worst case scenario, I guess I can fit on myself…"

"You're too skinny, sweetie- Wait, I know," Gwen shouted, her eyes lighting up. "We can ask Arthur!"

Merlin wrinkled his nose as if she'd thrown a dead fish in front of him. "You're _joking_, right?"

"Why not?" she replied. "It's the perfect solution. He's always hanging around, and its not like there's anyone else in the department you can work on, seeing as you're the only guy in our class. I've bought clothing for Arthur for Christmas, it's not like I don't know his measurements. Trust me Merlin, he'll be perfect."

Voices dropped all around them. Merlin sensing that class would begin at any moment. "I don't think it's a good idea," he whispered.

"And what will you do instead?"

"I'll ask Lance to help me."

"So you're willing to have a your competition piece walk the runway too short? Lance is well built, but there's no way he is tall enough for runway."

"I've always been a fan of flood pants." Merlin smiled.

"I'll ask Arthur for you, you won't even need to do it-"

"Gwen, how do I put this tactfully," He said, scratching his forehead. "I don't think I'm Arthur's favorite person."

"Well, he loves me," Gwen replied, opening her pattern book.. "Never underestimate the persuasive power of a woman, Merlin. If I say Arthur's doing it, it's a done deal."


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur gripped the charcoal in his hand and flipped to a fresh page of newsprint. He had six minutes until the next pose of the model, and he was intent on capturing the bend of the elderly lady's spine perfectly. He clenched his jaw; letting the folds of flesh come to life through line work. "And just how long will I have to play dress up for that black haired ghost?" he asked Gwen dryly.

"A few months," Gwen replied, smudging her newsprint with a tacky eraser. "Just long enough for him to can get the fit right. My guess is a few fittings at the start of the pieces, and a final fitting before Merlin enters his work in the 'Arts Of Fashion Foundation' competition."

"And why do you think I'd agree to that?"

"Because you want to continue to get laid." Gwen smiled sweetly.

Despite going to the same school, Body In Motion was the only class he shared with his girlfriend. A class he weekly looked forward too. Drawing was one of only things in his life that tempered his restless mind, besides exercise, and sex. And Gwen one of the only people he counted on as a friend as well as his lover. Normally, spending time with her was the high point of his Wednesdays, but today's conversation was poisoning it for him. "With a threat like that, how can I refuse?" Arthur replied, steadying his hand.

He turned to his right, distracted by an off-key humming. Gwaine, an acquaintance from his industrial design class, was listening to his iPod full blast and mumbling with relaxed idiocy. His hands rolling in time with the music, like he was painting a living room, not capturing the essence of a human being. But Arthur had to admit, stoned or not- Gwaine could draw. Arthur tired not to compare his work to others. It was pointless. Each person had his or her own style and art is as subjective as well- infatuations. Still, he couldn't help but notice how slowly he moved today in relation to his classmates; even Gwen was easily outpacing him. He stroked the belly of the paper, letting the chalky substance take over. Smudging here and there for the musculature of the thighs, subtracting with his eraser for the light.

"Arthur, you're a doll, you have no idea how much he'll appreciate this." Gwen said, patting him on the leg with a dusty charcoal covered hand. "I'll tell Merlin you'll be in for a fitting next Monday at seven."

Arthur grunted something inane in response. He couldn't focus, and it wasn't just the power rifts oozing from Gwaine's speakers bothering him. His mind was rich with daydreams of his last month he had spent in California, but one image in particular stood out. Merlin heating up soy milk over the stove at seven am. All of him damp from a morning shower, his shirt loose on his delicate fame. The way he sprinkled coco powder and cinnamon into the bubbling pot, how delicious the house had smelled from it. How it had tasted so rich, so sweet in Arthur's mouth. Was it the ingredients? The organic cocoa powder?

Or was it simply because it was _Merlin_ who had made it for him?

_Merlin._ Arthur's subconscious crooned. _Now that's someone worth drawing naked._...

Arthur dropped his charcoal, excusing himself from the classroom. Half way to the bathroom he spotted his fear through the windows of the fashion studio. An island in a sea of women, dressed in black skinny jeans and a gaudy scarf, pin held suggestively between those full lips of his—To Arthur's relief, Merlin was too busy studying a draped dress form to notice the blond man at the window, with his hands in his pockets. The man who couldn't stop staring.

Come Monday, that dress form will be me, Arthur thought with sudden apprehension. His throat tightened.

What was he getting himself into?


	10. Chapter 10

The tiled bathroom was no larger then a closet, and felt like a clown car weekday mornings. Every morning the roommates vied for their space at the one large mirror the apartment held. This Friday in particular, the competition proved especially brutal. Merlin had the strange advantage of rarely sleeping, which meant he was normally the fist person in the bathroom. But Gwen was competitive; Arthur knew this well. They both had prized track careers in their high school days and were used to competing with each other as if they were opponents. Arthur guessed it was the steady crowding of Gwen's elbows rather then her smooth talk that had made Merlin agree to share his space at the mirror with her.

"So Arthur, are you excited about your gallery opening tonight?" Gwen asked, emptying a can of hairspray into the room, causing poor Merlin to cough uncontrollably behind her.

"You can't call it 'my' gallery opening when I've only got one painting in the show," Arthur called from the doorway. He'd taken jab in the eye with Gwen's toothbrush minutes before, and retreated to a safe space outside.

"Fine. But it's your first public exhibit of your work aren't you even a _little _nervous?"

"No," he said calmly. "It's a little open gallery in downtown Oakland, all student work. There will be ten galleries exhibiting tonight within a block of each other, the chance of having anyone notice my piece is slim. Besides, painting is just a hobby. I only got in because Gwaine hooked me up-"

"Well, at least you'll have three supportive Pendragon fans," she quipped.

"Three?"

"Mmm hmm. Merlin's coming."

Arthur's mouth twitched. "Will my humiliation know no end-"

"And he's bringing a friend," Gwen said, slathering her lips in Cover Girl.

"Merlin has friends," Arthur replied in mock shock. "Are we talking real or imaginary?"

Merlin nicked his chin with his razor, inhaling sharply. "I happen to be _in_ the room, you two," he said, unrolling a square of toilet paper. "And he's more real than any of your friends, Arthur. I'll introduce you, but only if you're on your best behavior-"

to this Arthur replied with a hearty burp.

Merlin splashed himself with water, kissed Gwen on the cheek as he left and said briskly, "Or better yet, Arthur, pretend to be someone else on their best behavior. I can't trust _your_ manners."

"So I'll see you at studio tonight, Mer?" Gwen laughed. "Remember, I don't get out until eight from Cubism Theory.

"No worries. I'll ask that caveman over there to help me grab dinner,. That is if he doesn't forget. We can all picnic in the studio and take BART to the gallery together."

"_I happen to be in the room you two_-" Arthur snarked. "And unlike a Neanderthal, I can work a phone Merlin. Just text me a reminder about dinner and I'll help. I wouldn't want you spraining your delicate wrists carrying those heavy plastic bags."

As soon as Merlin was back in his room, Gwen turned to Arthur and said, "Honestly, the way you go at it I think you _enjoy_ fighting with him."

Arthur stepped inside the bathroom. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, biting down on his toothbrush until foam dribbled down his chin. "There is _nothing_ I enjoy about Merlin Emrys."


	11. Chapter 11

"You've no idea what's in that," Merlin said, avoiding the tin foil wrapped burrito in Arthur's hand.

Sunset unfolded behind them, light peeking behind the crumbling brick warehouses that flanked their route back to school. Unlike the Oakland branch of the campus, the CCAC building in San Francisco sat in-between a strange mix of old and new. A modern beacon of a building, hidden in with the decay of a neglected industrial row. Granted, it was not the most convenient location. But good cheap meals could be found nearby if one knew where to look. Merlin had suggested walking five blocks to the Rainbow Grocery to pick up their dinner, a favorite haunt of his. A supermarket run entirely off solar power and stocked floor to ceiling with kale chips. Arthur, having gone with Gwen once before, declared it a "hemp infested hell", flat out refused to eat there. But, he was willing to compromise at the taco truck parked across the street.

"How can you eat that thing?" Merlin continued, two precious tofu rice crust potpies for him and Gwen held in a brown paper bag. "For all you know, they could use roadkill, or rat meat-"

"Mer-_lin_," Arthur replied between heaping swallows. "It's a freaking burrito. It's not going to kill me any faster then your mindless talking."

"Maybe it won't kill you, but it'll make you fat. Aren't you going to wait until we meet your girlfriend before you start eating?"

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. "Did you just call me fat?"

"No," Merlin smiled. "But you will be if you keep eating that garbage."

"Say that again, twig," he said, waving his burrito as threateningly as a weapon. "I _dare_ you."

An open roofed Jeep rolled up the street, it's bass blasting. Arthur had enough time to cringe at the thundering music before the driver hurled a beer can at Merlin's head, the contents exploded on impact. Merlin grabbed his temple, swaying. Staring in disbelief at his beer soaked clothing, and the red tears of blood dripping down his forehead.

"Awesome, you hit the fag!" a passenger yelled from the backseat as the car zoomed past.

And Arthur- ran.

He caught up easily with the Jeep a block away, stopped at a red light intersection. Yelling a battle cry of, "Hey assholes!" Arthur chucked his half-eaten burrito through the open window. It was a perfect goal, the driver howling as he was pelted with steaming mystery-meat, black beans and rice spraying him and his unsuspecting accomplices. The men swore and grabbed their door handles. And Arthur bolted backward, running faster then he had in any of his high school sports meets. "Head for the BART!" he yelled at Merlin, who was still staring dumbfounded a block ahead of him.

Speared on by Arthur's shouts, the two art students ran like their lives depended on it. It was possible they did. They ducked by old ladies with walkers, jumped puddles of mysterious sidewalk ooze. All the while hearing death threats spewed behind from their angry pursuers. When Merlin started to slow, Arthur caught him, practically dragging him to the sixteenth and Mission station entrance. They clambered down the steps, Arthur clearing the tollbooth in one leap. Merlin looked exhausted but roused himself enough to clumsily mimic his athletic companion. Bounding down the moving escalator, they pushed through the commute hour crowd and into the open arms of a Pittsburg Bay point bound train.

The door closed on Merlin. He let out a cry of surprise, orphaning his potpies on the other side of the platform. With a grunt, Arthur wedged the door open enough for Merlin to regain his arm, but not his dinner. One blaring beep and the door was closed for good. The train departing the station just as the group of goons descended the escalator.


	12. Chapter 12

A woman with a pushcart clicked in Merlin and Arthur's general direction, shuffling to the back of the crowded train. Groups of suited businessmen grumbled at them, averting their eyes. What the pair they must look, thought Arthur. Him damp with sweat, chest heaving, and Merlin drenched and reeking of cheap beer. Streams of blood still trickling down his forehead. Arthur felt his stomach leap, his hands drawing closer to the injured man's head. "Merlin, are you-"

"I can't believe you, Arthur!" Merlin exhaled, still fighting for his breath.

Arthur stepped back, puzzled. "Excuse me?"

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?" Merlin shouted "They could have caught up to us!"

Arthur recognized instantly that Merlin wasn't mad at him. He was... worried. No, worried wouldn't begin to describe it. Merlin was whiter then paper, and so wobbly he could barely stand. He was terrified. Arthur drew closer, blocking the view of curious passengers. "Merlin," he whispered. "Calm down, it's all right."

"No, its not!" Merlin choked, his eyes clouding. Tears spilling down the apples of his cheeks. "You've no idea! None at all! This isn't simple-town Indiana, okay? This is the Mission District, Arthur; those guys could have been in a gang! They could have had guns. For god's sake you could have been shot –"

"And what was the alternative?" Arthur snapped, pulling Merlin's hand away from his face to stare at the cut on his head. "Did you hear what they called you? For fuck's sake Merlin, you're bleeding!"

Merlin brought his hand back to the injury, as if he'd forgotten it. He stared the sheen the blood left on his fingertips. "S'not so bad," he said softly. "It's not the first time something like this has happened Arthur. You should have let it go. I don't think I even need stitches." He wiped his arm across his forehead, staining his scissor tattoo a sticky red that gave it the appearance of an accessory to murder.

Arthur paled. "What do you mean, not the first time?"

The tips of Merlin's round ears reddened, and he looked down at the mess of his shirt. "I've been dealing with stuff like this for years. A full beer can though, that's a first. I really wish I'd worn a different outfit today. I'm not sure all this will bleach out."

"If anyone ever hurts you, ever, they're a dead man," Arthur declared, his hands clenching into fists at his side. "No one has the right to harass you like that. Even if you are-"

The crimson in Merlin's ears rushed to his face. Arthur swallowed. "Come on though, wasn't it awesome to see that trio of dip-shits caked in rat meat?"

The sides of Merlin's lips curled. "I think one guy had cheese in his ear."

Arthur shifted on his heels. Not knowing what to do next, he settled with giving Merlin a manly pat on the back. "Looks like were headed to Oakland now whether we like it or not. Let's get you something to eat. I'll text Gwen and have her meet us at the gallery –" he stopped for a moment, laughing with devilish satisfaction. "And me as well I guess, since I lost my burrito."


	13. Chapter 13

They got off at Lake Merritt station. Merlin recommending a restaurant on the glittering main street. Gregoire's was a fairy tale amongst the shapeless concrete stores. A a gingerbread Victorian, with a tangle of vines spilling it's window boxes. A quick glance at the menu taped int he window let Arthur know it served real food, as well as the 'rabbit food' Merlin preferred. A hostess ushered them inside, but instead of seating them in the humming activity of the main floor, she veered off the busy dinging area and into a dark, unoccupied part of the restaurant.

"She's hiding us," Arthur said, opening up his menu with amusement.

"Can you blame her?" Merlin replied.

Arthur briefly assessed his companion's clothing. Merlin's shirt was longer sopping, but that hardly made a difference. The fabric had hardened with swampy brown beer stains, the front peppered with a dark splattering of blood. "Red is not your color, Merlin," Arthur said. "If you don't change soon people will start starring."

"You think I don't know that?" Merlin said, glancing around the restaurant. "I'll go home and change before the show, or buy a new shirt-"

"Forget that, come here." He herded Merlin to back of the restaurant, looked for the telltale bathroom and pushed him into the one stall men's room.

The light flickered to life, revealing a gray tile floor and Merlin's blanched face in the mirror. "I don't need to go," Merlin replied in confusion.

"What are you, five? This isn't a 'potty break'," Arthur said gently, locking the door for good measure. "Now that shirt off-"

Merlin blinked. "Here? But I don't' have a-"

"Just _do it_."

Merlin's embarrassment at undressing was adorable, and Arthur couldn't help but excite at seeing him strip. Underneath the designer labels and thrift store scarves was a surprisingly well-toned physique. He was pale certainly, but not gaunt as Arthur had expected. His body was willowy in comparison to Arthur's own, lacking the same stocky muscle quality. But undressed, Merlin's slimness only made him appear- graceful. Merlin was, as always, a massive contradiction. Dark haired but fair skinned. Seemingly soft but with the undeniably firm features of a man- and a handsome one at that.

"You can wear this," Arthur said quickly, tossing Merlin his long sleeve shirt and keeping his wandering eyes in check. "I always wear an undershirt so I'm fine. It may be a little big but it's a hell of a lot better then the mess you had on."

"I feel like a kid playing dress up," Merlin said, flopping his arm in the sleeve. "I can't believe you're letting me wear your accountant's shirt."

"My what?"

"Accountant's shirt," Merlin chuckled. "You've the same striped dress shirt that every accounting student in San Francisco wears. You see them, lined up at the bars, hoping to get laid on Friday nights. All in the same variation of this boring-"

Arthur coughed.

"No offense," Merlin said, working into the other sleeve. "It looks great... I mean...on you."

"I'll have you know, I bought that at Banana Republic."

"Just because it comes from Banana, doesn't mean every piece is flattering. You should take Gwen with you when you shop, her taste in clothes is almost as impeccable as her taste in-" Merlin paused, looked at Arthur briefly then said quickly. "Um.. other things."

Arthur turned the rusty sink knob, letting the cold water nip at his hands and cleanse his face. "I can't believe your ridiculing my damn clothes. Merlin can you for once stop acting like such a _chick_?"

"I'll stop acting like a chick when you stop acting like a _dick_," Merlin replied.

"If I'm a dick," Arthur snorted, shaking his hands dry. "Then you can go suck it."

"I'm not _that_ hungry," Merlin muttered with a blush, hastily buttoning the shirt closed.

Arthur laughed, feeling a familiar warmth stirring inside of him. The sensation he always got when they egged each other on, intensified by the echo of their voices in the bathroom stall, and the thought of Merlin in _his_ shirt. Would it be strange of him to not wash it when Merlin returned it? To wear it again, smell the scent of Merlin's body against his skin and imagine he was pressed up against him. Arthur shuddered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

Merlin, however, seemed oblivious. Examining himself in the dusty mirror. He grabbed a handful of paper towels, topped them off with soap and rubbed at the cut on his forehead until he was satisfied. "The bleeding's stopped, and with this much soap I don't think it will get infected," he announced triumphantly.

"You were hit with a beer can; I hear alcohol is antiseptic," Arthur replied. "Speaking of beer, let's get out of here and order."

* * *

A waitress bobbed between tables, the hum of classical music pricking their ears as Merlin and Arthur looked intently at the menus- instead of each other. It was a strange place for two men to dine together, thought Arthur. The ambiance of the restaurant clearly read date night. Couples holding hands, stealing kisses over pressed white tablecloths. He thought briefly about the waitress who would take their orders, and what she'd assume about them. Crestfallen as he realized that this, perhaps, was as close as he would ever get with Merlin. Arthur crunched a chunk of ice from his water glass and said. "I could use a real drink. Let's order a round with our meal."

"I don't drink," Merlin replied.

"Merlin, what do you want, me to beg you? " Arthur sighed. "You may not be much, but you're one of the only friends I have here. We've had a terrible evening and I need to wash it out of my mind as soon as possible. Do me a favor and have one beer, okay?"

"Were- friends?" Merlin blinked, caught off guard.

"Aren't we?"

The question hung unanswered.

"Yes," Merlin said at last, a pleasant look sweeping his face. "I suppose we are."

"That's the spirit," Arthur teased. "And I've decided, Were having Anchor Steams."

They piled the menu's up on the table for the waitress. Once they'd ordered and she was out of sight, Merlin said softly; "Arthur I- I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner but, thank you, for tonight. For everything." He rubbed at his neck. "I guess I'm just not used to people like you sticking up for me."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, football playing jocks-"

"Show's what you know," Arthur replied. "I spent most of my High school years on the track team; I only did football for a season. Concussion saw to that."

Merlin flushed. "I'm sorry, I had no idea-"

"Don't be," Arthur snorted. "It was my father's idea for me to join the team, not mine. One game I took a major hit, got the wind knocked out of me. But the old man was there in the stands, expecting I'd get up and shake it off like a man. So I did. Told my coaches I was fine to play. I played the remaining five minutes and two overtime periods okay, but after the game I started to get dizzy. When I puked on the sidelines the coach forced me to go to the emergency room. That's when they said I'd had a nasty concussion-" he smiled, took another drink of his water and said. "You know Merlin, I actually I laughed when the doctors told me. Damn, did I milk that thing for all it was worth; it was the perfect excuse to never play again."

"I take it you two don't get along?" Merlin asked softly, playing with the edges of the cloth napkin in his lap.

"That's an understatement at best." Arthur sighed. The waitress had returned, opening their drinks and setting them down with a flip of her hair. _She's testing the water_, he thought with a smirk. Noticing with interest that Merlin hadn't even registered the subtle cues from the skinny blond. Arthur took a sip of his beer, watching as the waitress slunk past them. He let the flavor bubble up on his tongue then asked, "Merlin, you ever had a girlfriend?"

Merlin shot Arthur an icy glare.

"I swear for once I'm not trying to be belligerent I'm just-curious."

To his relief Merlin settled, taking a swig of his drink and saying with a sour face, "No."

Arthur bit his lip; thinking about the 'Friend' Merlin was supposedly bringing to the gallery tonight and what that word might actually mean to him. "How about a boyfriend?" He ventured. The music was dying. The mumblings of humans and smells of the kitchen vanishing around Arthur. The world melting from his perception until there was only one person left in the world. A pale young man stone still at table, the gnawing question hanging between them.

"Yes," Merlin replied carefully, taking another drink for courage.

"I figured as much," Arthur said, trying to sound as bored by the revelation as possible. "Tell me you've at least _kissed_ a women before?"

Merlin shifted in his seat, as if he was considering whether or he would answer. He inhaled and said, "There was a girl in my high school. We used to hang out in the woods behind my house in this fort my step dad built for me when I was a kid. There wasn't much left of it; a tin roof, two rotting walls, a rug I'd dragged in from storage. But to us it was paradise, our escape from the world," He wrung his hands together, looked Arthur deep within his eyes and said, "I had always expected my first kiss to be amazing, electric, you know, like you see in the movies. But kissing her felt- cold. Fake. As if we were miles apart. I'm not sure which of us was more mortified about that…" He closed his eyes, and took another sip off his sweating beer and said, "I'd known before that of course. I've always known. She just-solidified it. She didn't tell anyone what happened but it wasn't long before the whole school figured out my secret on their own. By Junior year, the bullying got so bad that I opted to do my senior year through a home school program."

Arthur could feel this back tense, his nerves wearing raw. "You could have just gone along with the girl. If you'd done that, you'd have spared yourself all that difficulty-"

"What?" Merlin interrupted. "You mean string her along knowing I'd never feel about her the way she felt about me?" A hint of recognition trembled in voice as he said. "That's beyond cruel, Arthur_. _How could I hurt someone like that?"

Arthur felt each word like a stab in his ribs. They were meant for him. And for the first time in ages he thought honestly about the women he shared his bed with. The woman who was so familiar that he had stopped looking at her for what she was. Gwen was beautiful in so many ways. Compassionate, strong, funny. Everything a man could want. Everything he _should_ want.

But he didn't love her. Hadn't ever truly loved her, as a boyfriend should, if he was completely honest with himself. It had been three months since he'd first laid eyes on this awkward man and his silly little sign. Since he'd understood the truth he'd chosen to ignore. He wanted to ask Merlin so much more. He wanted to touch the hand resting on the table mere inches from his own. Instead, Arthur finished his beer in one swallow and replied, "I told Gwen we'd meet at nine when the galleries open. I think you should do the same with your friend what's-his-face-"

"His name is Lancelot," Merlin said, his beer also noticeably empty.


	14. Chapter 14

They separated after dinner, Merlin insisting that despite Arthur's generous offer of his shirt, he needed to go home first to clean up before the gallery opening. Arthur had made his displeasure known with a series of grunts and taunting. When even this failed him, he took an excessive amount of time to find his credit card for the bill, feeling a pang of disappoint at the server's efficiency of returning it.

Gwen's wool coat scratched against Arthur's bare arms. He brushed Merlin out of his mind and a curl out of Gwen's eyes, kissing her once on the forehead. She took off her scarf, wrapped it around his neck and said, "Why are you wearing just an undershirt?"

"I lent Merlin my shirt," Arthur replied, his teeth chattering.

"Does this have anything to do with that text about you guys ditching me?"

"It wasn't on purpose," he huffed. "We had a- situation."

They linked arms, Arthur explaining to her the events of the few hours past as they walked towards a row of uneven art deco buildings.

"I can't believe it," she said, clasping his hand even tighter. "How can some people be so sick, so heartless?"

_Sick,_ he thought with a shudder. _Heartless_. _She could describing me now without even knowing it_-

"I don't know," Arthur replied.

Is Merlin all right?"

"I think so, the worst of it was a bump on the head."

"You know I don't condone violence," Gwen said. "But if I had the chance I'd rip those jerks arms right out of their sockets. That was rad of you to stand up for him like that." She went silent for a moment then whispered. "You've changed so much since you got here, Arthur. The man I used to know could have been one of the guys throwing the can from that Jeep."

They milled into the line forming at front of the open gallery. "I don't know what to tell you," he shrugged, watching the cars zoom past on the dirty street. "I'm hardly a San Francisco bleeding heart liberal. But that doesn't mean I like people harassing my friends_._"

"So you and Mer are _friends_ now?" Gwen smiled.

"Maybe," he replied with a soft grin. "But don't go blabbing about. I have a reputation to keep."

"You're a knight in shining armor," she said, kissing Arthur deeply on the lips. "But even knights catch colds. You're freezing love, let's get you inside."


	15. Chapter 15

Merlin's voice was as smooth as the velvet of his tailored jacket. He had changed clothes before joining them; Arthur's over-sized shirt replaced with the dapper coat, pink shirt, fitted slacks and Vivienne Westwood scarf. The Merlin equivalent of formal wear, Arthur thought with a grin. To his relief, the cut on Merlin's forehead had stopped bleeding, now covered with a flesh colored Band-Aid. All around them in the gallery young people mingled. Exchanging pleasantries and judging each other's appearances without reservation. The room was stuffy with the hot breath of bodies, and the hot air of art critiques.

"Gwen, you know Lance," Merlin said brightly, nudging his friend forward. "Lance, let me introduce you to our other roommate, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur's eyelids jolted up in surprise. So this was the 'friend' Merlin had talked about, the infamous Lancelot? He was not what Arthur had been expecting. There was nothing really remarkable about him. From his mousy brown hair to his boy next-door face, he looked perfectly-average. Standing next to the pale other-worldliness that was Merlin, Arthur felt Lance couldn't have been more out of place.

"Guinevere, always a pleasure." Lance replied smoothly, kissing her hand, and then offering his own to Arthur.

Arthur grasped him midway, withdrawing his hand as briefly as he had accepted it. Fighting the urge to wipe his palm off on his pants.

"Arthur's in the industrial department," Merlin said with a smile. "But he has a painting exhibiting in the gallery tonight."

"I look forward to seeing it. I'm in the architecture department myself. Mer and I go way back," Lance said, squeezing Merlin lightly on the shoulder. "We used to room together in the CCA dorms."

"Used to being the key word," Merlin laughed. "Lance was always nagging me about leaving sewing needles on the floor-"

Arthur took a swig from his plastic cup, noticing the way Lance gave him a thorough once over with his deep brown eyes. The silence was nauseating.

"So," Lance said, his voice almost lost in the throbbing electronic music. "Merlin tells me you've just moved from Indiana? I bet you couldn't wait to get out of there."

Arthur stiffened. His curiosity about Lance fading into something unwholesome he couldn't yet place. Disdain perhaps? "No," he replied curtly. "I've never had a problem with my home state. My move had more to do with Gwen then Indiana. Not everyone in the Midwest is as devoid of culture as Californians seem to think-"

"No, of course not," Lance said with a start. "I didn't' mean anything by it. I'm a Michigan transplant myself."

_Michigan? Go figure_, thought Arthur. With his luck, this Lance guy probably rooted for Notre Dame's heated football rival Michigan State. If that was the case, they were doomed from the start to never get along. He tightened his hold on Gwen's hand. "Gwen, you ready to check out the gallery?"

"Wait a minute," Merlin said, putting hands on both his roommate's shoulders. "I'll get us all some wine and we can browse together. It'll be- fun."

"Make it a beer," Arthur replied warily. "And I'll consider it."

As Merlin and Lance melted into the crowed, Gwen turned to her boyfriend . "Now WHAT was that about?"

"Nothing," Arthur replied, pretending to be interested in giant papier-mâché elephant.

"Seriously, why were you being so weird just now?" she said, rolling her eyes.

"I _wasn't._"

"Yes, you _were_."

He sighed. "Something about that Lance guy rubs me the wrong way..."

"Oh god, this isn't about football is it?" Gwen groaned. "You hear the word 'Michigan' and you're ready to jump down the guy's throat. We don't know if he's a state fan, okay? And even if he is, you can suck it up Arthur, it's a freaking game. Give him a chance, ok? I've known Lance forever; he's a good guy. He'll grow on you."

"Like a tumor."

"Shut up," she laughed. "They're coming back, so you'd better stop being catty or I swear I'll spill my wine all over you."

"Some threat," Arthur said crossing his arms. "It looks like Merlin's brought you white."


	16. Chapter 16

"Which piece is yours?"

Arthur gestured to a canvas that filled up the entire red brick wall. He'd spent several weeks painting it at home in his off hours. Hiding it under a tarp in the closet for safekeeping. There was something pleasant about seeing the piece he'd thrown so much of himself into up on public display.

"It's huge," Merlin observed, taking a sip from his glass. "How on earth did you hide it from us for so long?"

"In the closet," Arthur said without thinking. Merlin glanced at him with an amused smile, and he instantly regretted his choice of words.

"Merlin, I thought you didn't drink," Gwen said, eying the white wine in the his hand.

"Tonight is a night of exceptions." Merlin replied.

Arthur swore that he'd looked his way as he'd said it.

"Do you always paint abstracts?" Lance asked Arthur politely.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I'll paint anything; it's more about finding a subject that interests me. However, I don't consider abstracts restrictive. Color is a landscape in its own right; every line a valley, every ripple a mountain. I do portraits, just not often. It's difficult to find a single subject so engaging that I want to-" He glanced over at Merlin, then looked back at his canvas. "To dedicate my time to them."

"Arthur, it's stunning," Gwen beamed, sliding her fingers up his shoulder, openly playing with the ring of his T-shirt collar. "I wouldn't be surprised if you found a buyer," She cooed.

Arthur nodded. quietly pleased that Merlin and Lance were not sharing similar affections.

"So Arthur, do you have a truck deliver your canvasses to you or do you own a hummer?" Lance asked with a chuckle.

Arthur was almost certain the clicking sound in his ear was his own jaw tensing. "You're joking, right?"

"Just curious," Lance quipped, taking a drink from his glass. "It's a good thing the walls were tall enough for the gallery assistants to hang it."

"Well, I think it's lovely!" Merlin enthused, squinting at the intricate line work so that he was almost nose-to-nose with the strokes. "So much Russian blue! No wait, that's not right- Brussian? No. Prussian, that's it, Prussian blue!" Then he giggled, making it apparent to everyone but himself that he'd had one too many drinks.

"Enough torture," Arthur said, guiding his pawing girlfriend into another room. "We've a whole gallery to view, let's move on people."

* * *

If Arthur had found regular Merlin charming, tipsy Merlin was inescapably so. He wafted in and out of the gallery rooms, calling at Lance and Gwen to see the latest object to catch his fancy. He was as animated as a child, quick to ask Arthur about methods of painting he was unfamiliar with. Hanging politely on his every word. No wonder men and women alike turned to him, thought Arthur. Their eyes studying Merlin's smooth face and immaculate dress as intimately as any painting.

When midnight hit and it was clear that most of them had difficulty standing, Lance offered the services of his car. Having only had one drink, he'd nominated himself designated driver. Even Arthur was too tipsy to argue with that.

"Would you like to come with me to get the car?" Lance asked Merlin.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to look at the paintings," Merlin pleaded. "I'm always trapped at the fashion studio, I never go out anymore."

"Sure thing," Lance agreed. "I'll bring the car round to the front and honk when I'm there."

"I better go freshen up," Gwen sighed. "I hate places like this. Who designs a public space with only one woman's bathroom? The line is already down the hall-"

"See you in three years," Arthur interrupted, looking at the endless row of women snaking to the back of the gallery.

Gwen's R-rated gesture as she left suggested that she didn't think it was such a cute joke.

"Arthur," Merlin said, shouting over cicada calls of electronic music. "Can we look at your painting one more time before we go?"

Arthur wrinkled his forehead, staring at the intoxicated figure in front of him. He thought, "Hell no," but he said, "Why not?" And so the two men walked to the furthest gallery room and stared at the speckled canvas.

"Breathtaking," Merlin said, tilting his head back to gaze at the massive work of art.

Arthur shrugged.

"I mean it Arthur. The strokes, the bleeding color underneath, it reminds me of a Shibori dyed textile. You must have been working on it for weeks." He looked it up and down again, turned to Arthur and breathed, "You love it- don't you?"

Arthur suppressed a gasp. "What?"

"Painting, and it shows!" Merlin smiled. "Why on earth are you in Industrial Design when you can do this?"

"It was the only way my father would let me go to Art School. I had to do something 'practical' with my life. There is no way he'd ever let me be something as frivolous a painter."

"Shame," Merlin whispered, running his hand through his hair. "It's your life. You should be free to make your own choices..."

There's an invincibility that comes with too much to drink, and Arthur let it shroud him like a warm blanket. In the room with walls white as paper, the music drowning their voices- his body contemplated its treachery. Acting under the false courage of a few cheap drinks and no else one in sight, he slid his arm around Merlin's waist.

And waited.

He could feel Merlin tense, but he didn't protest. Arthur watched as Merlin dug inside his jacket pocket, grabbing a cigarette in his trembling hand.

"Take that out of your mouth," he hissed.

"I haven't had one all night," Merlin replied weakly. "I won't light it inside, promise-"

In a blink Arthur swiped the cigarette from Merlin's mouth, crushing it with disdain. He whirled Merlin around to face him, enjoying the thrill of his hands on his waist. The surprise hiding in those frail blue eyes.

He wanted the man in front of him. _Desperately_. As if he were fourteen all over again.

Arthur was used to tilting a girl's chin up when he kissed them, or at the very least bowing down to meet their lips, but Merlin fit against him perfectly. If he had expected kissing a man to feel strange he could say that he was, happily, disappointed. Merlin's skin smelt of lilac soap. His cheek soft with the slightest fuzz that brushed against Arthur's face as he enjoyed his mouth. Everything about the man in his arms was tender. From his bright pink flush, to the way his supple lips accepted the eager advances. And, to Arthur's fierce pleasure, a growing part of Merlin underneath him was now anything but soft.

He whispered into Merlin's round ear. Tracked his lips down the pulse of his neck. "Electric enough for you, Emrys?" He cooed.

Merlin closed his eyes, whispering. "Arthur...I-"

But Arthur didn't wait for the answer. Couldn't. Greedily he pushed Merlin into concrete wall, almost crashing into his own painting as he claimed him again. The vibration of the gallery music thumped inside Arthur's ribcage. His hands finding their way under Merlin's velvet jacket, up the thin cotton of the pink dress shirt. He brushed his fingers slowly down Merlin's skin, feeling the sensuous ridge of his hipbone as their belt buckles ground together.

Their mouths and legs intertwined. Lips and tongues exploring one another for the first time. Arthur could feel Merlin melting into his waiting body. Gasping underneath him. The very sound of Merlin's uneven breaths making him feel like he could cum right there, from the sheer pleasure of it all-

Behind them a woman laughed. A group of pierced Telegraph kids trickling in from another room in the gallery, eying the pair with creepy amusement. Arthur released a swaying Merlin and fought to gather his own composure. Merlin righted himself, quickly, as if he'd been awoken from a dream. His hands scrambling to hide the still poking evidence of their encounter.

A car horn blared from outside. Arthur licked his lips, savoring the honey-sweet taste of what was just on them. "That would be our ride Merlin," he exhaled.


	17. Chapter 17

Arthur rolled to the side of the bed, letting his eyes adjust to the light. Birds were singing praises to the morning. The sun burglarizing its way through the half opened blinds. He threw the covers off himself, scratched, and closed the blinds all the way. Gwen's face was buried into her pillow. She was still in depths of hangover sleep, snores mewing sweetly from her lips. He brushed a hand over her hair. She didn't even flinch.

Saturday morning, was it? And Friday night, what was that, a dream? He walked into the closet; saw the dirty towel balled on the floor, the tangible evidence of a night of desperate lovemaking with Gwen. He threw it in the hamper, disgusted with himself.

Yes. It was real. All of it. The wet hot kissing with Merlin in the gallery...the grinding. The car ride home. Merlin's morbid silence in the passenger's seat as Arthur made out unabashedly with Gwen in the back. Being dropped off at the apartment. Lance and Merlin driving off. The steady shedding of clothing. The bed-

Arthur got dressed in the dark, closed the door and snuck on tiptoe into the hallway. The door on the right had been left open, revealing the mystery that was Merlin's room. He poked his head in, looking twice to makie sure he was alone. It was the smaller of the two rooms in the apartment, the window's a fraction of the one in the master bedroom, with no visible closet. A dresser stood cluttered with gauche paints and plastic pallets. A cup of standing paint water left next to them, looking like a toxic tea.

The dresser drawers were completely ajar, clothing flung hap-haphazardly on the floor. Merlin must have come home when they were sleeping. Grabbed what he needed and spent the night with Lance.

A figure caught Arthur's attention. He jumped back, thinking he had been mistaken and that Merlin was actually at home. He realized with a cool relief that the body in the corner was a headless dress form. He shoved it out of spite, watching the base spin. Then afraid the metal clink would wake Gwen, helped it come to a stop. Women's clothing was pinned to the tanned body_, _causing Arthur to wonder what kinky reason Merlin would have for keeping a dress in his room. Then it dawned on Arthur. Of course, Merlin must have sewn this for _school. _He flipped on the light switch, closed the door and walked back to the dress form, pulling up a silken sleeve.

It was...Amazing. Light as a whisper, looking like a designer piece pulled straight from his stepsister Morgan's closet. How could a person just _create_ something like that. Painting, drawing, sculpting even he understood, but _this_? He may know jack shit about clothing, but he recognized talent when he saw it.

He let go of the dress, slumping onto Merlin's bed. It was tiny. Far too small for a man of his size. And where on earth did Merlin get such a crap mattress? Ikea?

He rearranged his head, laying on the pillow.

_This is where he sleeps._

Arthur imagined Merlin sleepless under the covers, thinking about- what? Him? Them? Or more realistically, how much of an asshole Arthur was? Is that why he didn't come home last night? Arthur sighed, pulling the pillow closer to his face. Smelling the intoxicating scent of the man he wanted now more than anything. Wishing hopelessly that he could fall asleep in that tiny bed until its owner came home to find him.

But Merlin didn't come home; not for the entire weekend. It wasn't until Monday that panic stared to gnaw Arthur's stomach. Would Merlin even be there when Arthur came into the fashion studio to help him fit his competition piece?

He was relieved that Gwen didn't seem concerned.

"He'll be there," she said, enjoying a steaming bowl of oatmeal at the table Monday morning. "Merlin always does this; he's probably sleeping at school and working himself to death." She stirred her lumpy meal and continued. "He'll be in the studio for the fitting appointment, you can count on it. Merlin's never missed a class in all the years I've known him. He even came in once with the flu, but Barbara kicked him out because he wouldn't stop coughing."

"I guess," Arthur said nonchalantly, ignoring the knot in his stomach that refused to untie itself. "Maybe he decided to crash at his boyfriends place."

"Boyfriend?" Gwen said with a start. "What boyfriend?"

"You know," Arthur grumbled, chomping a mouthful of toast. "That Lance guy he brought to the gallery-"

"You thought Lance and Merlin—" she laughed out loud, mascara smearing her cheeks as she covered her face. "Oh my god, Arthur, Lance is _totally_ hetero; he and Merlin are just friends!"

Arthur swallowed, mortified at the color his face must be turning.

Perhaps he should pretend he was choking...

"Well, I guess that explains your poor behavior to Lance last night, you homophob," Gwen teased. She pulled out her phone, fingers rapidly pressing keys, "I am so texting Lance to tell him you thought he was _gay_. That is too funny!"


	18. Chapter 18

The fashion design studio positively reeked of estrogen. Square bodied dress forms with triangle breasts stood in lifeless formation, female students furiously working to prick and cover the canvas skins. And there, floating adrift the sea of women was the lost Merlin Emrys, black and white as a was leaning over the wooden pattern table, his shirt rolled up in the corner, hip resting against the tables broad metal lip as he skimmed a textbook. Arthur could tell just by the look of Merlin that he was in one of his 'trances' as Arthur called them. His charcoal eyelashes downcast, rich blue eyes glazed in thought. Butcher-block patterns were piled near his worn leather bag, evidence of hours spent drafting. A cup of tea only a grasp away, uncovered, with a puddle left in the bottom.

Working next to Merlin was a red head with dark eyes and plump, venomous looking lips. Something about her reminded Arthur of the vintage Playboys he had found as a boy, hidden under a suitcase in his father's garage. He watched from the doorway as the woman splayed across Merlin's table, inspecting his patterns. Her eyebrows crawling like black caterpillars under a Betty Page fringe.

"Merlin, how did you figure out the measurement of the yoke?" she purred.

"Its on page three of the handout Barbra gave us last class," Merlin replied without once looking up.

"As if anyone can understand old Bab's calculations."

"It's not that difficult, if you take the time to read it."

"I read half," The red head said, tossing the patterns back and looking at her own workbook in disgust. "But I got bored so I went out instead. It's good to blow off some steam every now and again, don't you agree?"

"Not at the expense of your grades," Merlin replied evenly.

Arthur let out deep cough and Merlin stilled.

"You're covered in filth," Merlin snapped, catching sight of Arthur. He bit his lower lip, put down his book and added. "Couldn't you have at least scrubbed up before you came?"

As much as Arthur had wanted to see Merlin, a larger part of him had dreaded coming. The last time they had been face to face was in an embrace, and not a thing had been said or seen between the two since. In fact, Arthur had the suspicion Merlin was actively avoiding him. But to Arthur's surprise and great relief, Merlin had offered an olive branch with his taunt. This was their game. A game in which they were both seasoned masters, knew all the rules. It was obvious neither of them was ready to handle what had passed between them that Friday in the dark. But they could both handle this.

"It's not like I haven't washed my hands, Merlin," Arthur quipped readily. "If you painted rather then sewed pretty little dresses, you'd know it's impossible to get all the pigment stains off."

Merlin flashed a grin, and Arthur let his shoulders relax, the knot in his stomach finally untangling as he stepped inside the fashion studio.

He could feel all the mascaraed eyes look at him, as if he were an exotic animal being paraded for their display. Come to think of it, him and Merlin _were_ the only men in the room.

The red head promptly turned to Arthur, cradling her arms so her ample assets could be viewed to their best advantage. "Who's this, Merlin? Friend of yours?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Merlin dug deep into it his bag, ignoring them both. Arthur had his suspicions that he was enjoying throwing him to this she-wolf, that was, until he spoke up. "Don't touch him, Nimue. That's Arthur, he's Gwen's. And Arthur, don't touch anything you're not supposed to either."

"Gwen's boyfriend, huh?" Her smile looked far too dramatic to be genuine. With a sharp chuckle, she rolled her dress form away from the patterning table.

Arthur was lead to what he would describe, for lack of a better comparison, a makeshift living room. A shoji screen stood by a big blue couch that had seen too many butts and too little steam cleaning. Its arms were patched with widely stitched scraps, and top of left arm was a blanket, suggesting it also acted as an emergency bed. Next to the couch a mini fridge hummed, faux wood microwave on top of it flashing 12:00 incessantly.

Merlin stood in front of the couch clutching a green binder and a cow shaped tape measure to his chest like life preservers. "Sorry for the wait," He said softly. "I couldn't find my scissors."

"On your arm." Arthur smirked. "Isn't that why you got them tattooed, so you wouldn't loose them?"

Merlin wrinkled his nose and shrugged him off. "I think we'll have more room to work over here Arthur. Ready to get to work?"

"And what do you plan to do with the cow?"

"Take your measurements. There's no point in fitting a muslin on you if your measurements aren't right."

"Muslim?"

"Mus-lin," Merlin corrected, the L rolling off his tounge. "It's a fabric you use for draping and alteration. It's cheap and light weight, so you can make as many samples as you need until you get your patterns right. Only then do you move on to the more expensive fabric. Think of it as the sketch before the canvas."

"Oh," Arthur said, trying to look vaguely interested.

"Take off your coat."

Arthur obliged, watching Merlin's interested quiver of eyelashes as he purposefully removed his coat in slow motion.

Whatever crossed Merlin's thoughts, he did not betray it. The tenor of his voice coming just as smoothly as it had before. "Ah good, you've a got tee under, that's perfect," he said, lifting up Arthur's chin, so that it his head faced forward. "Hold straight, just like that. There. Don't move a muscle."

_As if it's possible to be straight around you!_ Arthur wanted to snap. He knew now that it was impossible to stop the heated desire beating in his blood. Begging him to fall forward into Merlin's smooth touch, to enjoy. The most he could do was make sure no one else caught on to him. He swallowed his lust into the pit of his stomach, letting Merlin's deft hands do their work.

"Push back your shoulders. I can't take the measurements right if you slouch." Merlin said at his side.

"I do _not _slouch."

"Well, you are now."

"Says the wizard of slouch," Arthur retorted, jutting out his shoulders out with comical force.

Merlin softened his grip, whispering so faintly into Arthur's ear that he could barely hear it over the thrum of the sewing machines. "This isn't comfortable for me either, alright? It will go faster for both of us if you don't talk."

Before Arthur could blink, Merlin had whipped out the cow, extending the malleable tape measure and rolling it around the base of Arthur's neck. He checked it, jotting notes in the green binder. Over the process of several minutes and many strange positions on Arthur's part, Merlin managed to fill up his pages with his scribbles. And Arthur, with the help of remembering the Star Spangled Banner, had managed a professional appearance throughout.

"I need to get one last measurement," Merlin swallowed. "Your inseam…"

It was then that Arthur noticed the pallid uncertainty on Merlin's face, and the way several female students ears pricked up to the conversation.

Merlin blushed and said under his breath, "The inseam is measurement that goes from your groin down to your ankle. It'll only take a moment."

Arthur's pupils dilated. He nodded solemnly.

Someone whistled, and he felt Merlin's shaking hand place the tape measure below his crotch, unraveling it down to his ankle. But as promised, Merlin did the job quickly. The second time was a bit less awkward, but only by a little. Normally, he'd have no qualms with Merlin's face hovering just at waist level, but this attention paired with the curious eyes of a classroom was anything but pleasant. After finishing the measurements and scratching them down, a very red Merlin grabbed his paperwork and excused himself.


	19. Chapter 19

Merlin clutched his binder to his chest, ducking behind the partition used for model fittings. Once he was hidden he loosened the scarf at his throat, as if it were suffocating. He felt hot, almost feverish. Maybe Lance was right. Maybe He had been single too long…

He clenched his eyes shut until they hurt. "Arthur is a prick," he reminded himself. "Arthur is a prick, and more importantly, that prick is one of your _best friend's_ boyfriend."

He thought again of Arthur. His ken-doll hair. Paralyzing all American smile. The tape measure rolling across his firm taut thighs. Of his smell. What was it exactly? A sweet warm musk mixed with cologne and just a hint of oil paint.

Most interesting of all, the moist, wet caress of Arthur's lips and the curious slip of his tongue in the dark gallery...

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Merlin dabbed the perspiration from his forehead.

_Screw Gwen for suggesting this. And screw Arthur. Him and his well fitting Lucky jeans. _

_Screw Arthur_, Merlin's subconscious mused._ Now there's an interesting thought. And you know now that he wouldn't object to it-_

Merlin frowned, adjusted himself accordingly, and walked back into the studio as if all was right in the world. Arthur was sitting at the patterning table, leafing through a tattered five-year-old copy of Vogue. To Merlin's relief, he didn't even look up from it.

"You can go now. I'll compare your measurements to what I need and get back to you," Merlin said.

"So there's a chance I won't have to do this again?" Arthur replied, tossing the magazine across the table.

"With any luck, your shoulders will be too broad and you'll be off the hook."

"Really? But I was _so_ looking forward to being a patron of the arts-"

Merlin crammed his notebook into his bag. "I'm sure if you ask around you'll find another fashion student desperate enough to fit on you."

A few girls giggled, but went mute at the sight of Gwen walking in the door. She was dressed in lavender denim, and a white billowing blouse that clung to her delicate frame.

"Ah, thank goodness, she's come to collect you," Merlin quipped, but carefully dodging Gwen's greeting hug.

"Did you have fun playing dress up?" Gwen smiled, pinching her boyfriend's cheek like a doting old aunt.

"Well, we sure enjoyed the show," a pink haired girl shouted from across the room.

"Ugh, you would, Kat," Gwen said, raising an eyebrow. "Paws off, this one is mine!"

"Speaking of shows," Nimue interrupted, creeping from behind her dress form. "Did you happen to catch Friday's open gallery in downtown Oakland?"

Gwen looked around the room, to decide if the red head was talking to her. She frowned briefly then said, "Yeah. Arthur had a piece in it."

"Aw, that's too bad. We must have just missed each other. I did see Merlin and Arthur as I was leaving, though. But I don't think they noticed me. They both seemed a little…preoccupied."

The men froze, searching each other for answers. The fear mimicked in Arthur's round eyes was enough for Merlin. He acted quickly.

"Gwen," Merlin said, placing himself in-between Nimue and Arthur. "Feel free to head out. I'll let you know if I need Arthur-" He could feel himself flushing at his choice of words. "For fitting. I mean, that is, it's done so you can both go home. I'll work late tonight so grab dinner without me."

Arthur mirrored Merlin's coloring and his anxiety, looping Gwen's arm. "I'm famished," he groaned. "And I've done my part like you wanted. Now can I get the hell out of this chick fest before I grow a vagina?"

Merlin waited until they were both out of sight before he dared speak to Nimue. "Just what are you playing at?" He whispered

Nimue adjusted the spaghetti strap on her tank top, puckering her rouge lips. "Come outside with me, Merlin. I've got something to show you."

He followed her down the hallway, out through a fire exit with a broken alarm and onto a cement patio, walled in by green bins for recycling. The noise of traffic zoomed from behind the bins, rattling them whenever a truck thundered past. But other then a few insects and the metallic eye of a security camera above the door frame, they were alone.

Merlin jumped as Nimue pawed his back pocket.

"God, what's wrong with you?" he yelped, pushing her away like she had plague. Knowing her reputation, it was possible. "If you brought me here to hit on me," he said, grabbing the door handle, "I just gave you my answer."

"Relax," she replied, opening her palm to reveal a silver lighter inscribed with his own initials. She pulled out two cigarettes from her purse, stuck them in her mouth and lit both at once. "Take one."

He eyed her uncertainly, accepting the cigarette without putting it to his lips, and snatching back his lighter.

"So, tell me Merlin," Nimue smiled, lifting a bare leg up so that her heel rested in the grout of the wall. "Arthur any good? Pretty shameless of you two to mount like that in public."

Merlin froze. His worst suspicions confirmed.

"It's not like that-" He stuttered.

"Make a habit of fucking your friend's boyfriends? Who would have thought adorable little Merlin-"

"I can explain!"

She took a deep breath, exhaling a cloud of smoke at his face. "I'm fucking with you, sweetie," she laughed. "You don't have to justify shit to me. I don't care. But I think we both know someone who _would_ care. What do you think Gwen would say if she knew about your little rendezvous? Think she'd be angry? Think she'd like to see it? Think it'd make her wet? I know that's why I taped it."

He felt the bile rising in his throat as Nimue held up her phone, revealing a grainy video. Even with the poor quality, he could easily make out Arthur on top of him. The reminder of that moment would have excited Merlin any other time. But knowing whose hands it was in, who had taken it, made him his stomach do back flips.

"How did you get that?"

"Like it? I'll email it to you for later," She winked, pushing a button. "It was a stroke of luck. I was at the gallery and saw you two going at it. To be honest, I had no clue who you were with Merlin, I just thought the girls in the department would get a kick out of you boning off some dude. But now that I know who your little lover boy is-"

"You wouldn't," Merlin snapped.

"Well, that depends," she said, tucking her phone into the waistband of her skirt. "On what's in it for me. You're a top student, Barbra's little pet-"

The words caught in his throat. "You're... blackmailing me?"

"Black mail is such a nasty word. Lets just say I want you to become my personal sweatshop. My patterns for studio three are hanging in the back rack along with my sketches for creative design. By Sunday I want all the butcher blocks done for studio, and the muslins started for design. And don't try anything stupid like stealing my phone. I have backups. If you fuck with me, I'll send it to Gwen out of spite."

Merlin thudded down on the cement steps; extinguished the cigarette with loathing. For all the fire that had burned deep inside him only half an hour before, when he was near Arthur, he now felt chilled to his bones. Nimue made another sick smile, and bent down to stroke his hair.

It was repulsive.

"You'll do it?" she breathed.

"Yes," Merlin said, afraid to meet her eyes. To anyone else she would have been just another scantily dressed, overly tattooed goth chick. But in the alleyway, among the slimy walls and the piles of trash, Nimue was Medusa herself. "How long do I have to do this?"

"As long as I want."

"If I do your work for you, you swear you won't show that to anyone?"

"Of course," she threw open the door, light pooling over the still brooding body of Merlin. "Really, don't look so beat up. You have no one to blame but yourself." She scowled, flicking ash to the ground. "If any of those nosy bitches asks where we were, tell them we left class for a smoke. And remember, I want it all done by Sunday. You'd better not flake out on me."


	20. Chapter 20

The silver flash of a car barreled through the sopping rain, tires screeching as it braked in front of Rockridge station. Merlin flicked the ash of his American Spirit to the sidewalk. He recognized the Honda, but the figure inside was lost to him. It wasn't until the wipers blinked that he could make out the driver. Arthur was behind the wheel. Dressed in a T-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, his mouth set in an unreadable line.

Merlin inhaled his cigarette for courage, re-reading the five word text he'd received only hours before.

_Rockridge station. Midnight_. _Be there_.

He covered Arthur's name on the screen with his thumb, as if the action could erase him from view. But Arthur was still there. Every chiseled feature as perfect as Merlin remembered.

Merlin's resolve was unraveling faster then a shoddy running stitch. He wondered, did he have enough of it left to open the car door?

Arthur made the choice for him, the horn of the Honda blaring into the night.

Merlin abandoned his cigarette, and jumped into the lion's den. "Cut it out, I'm in!" he said, tossing his bag to the floor as the Arthur stepped on the gas.

"You reek of smoke," Arthur replied sourly, glancing at Merlin in the rear-view mirror.

"Lovely to see you too," Merlin said, mixing in a more genuine, "Umm... and thanks for the ride."

"It's practically Noah's ark outside; Gwen said you wouldn't have remembered an umbrella. But you know that's not why I'm here-"

Merlin leaned into the fabric headrest, watching raindrops dribble into tears across the car's window. Buildings flew past in gray-scale, the asphalt road glistening with the yellow ghosts of headlights. But Merlin had his own haunts to reckon with tonight. Reconstructing the fateful moment in his mind. Playing Arthur's kiss on repeat, like a new favorite song whose words were still a mystery.

The car careened past Telegraph Avenue. "This isn't the way home," Merlin observed.

"Were taking the scenic route," Arthur replied, turning on the radio to avoid conversation.

Music glided through the car. The singer's gravely voice a note in the symphony of rain. Merlin closed his eyes, exhaustion stealing into his joints. The city streets melted into houses, the houses into the gnarled branches of oaks trees. They were going uphill, pulled by machine or the lull of an oncoming dream, Merlin couldn't tell which. Winding up a narrow pathway of earth into blurry starlight. When Merlin opened his eyes again the car was parking in a gravel lot. Arthur blatantly ignoring the 10pm park closure sign. The forest creaked it's complaint, as if their car's presence had interrupted its slumber.

_He's bringing me here? _thought Merlin, rubbing sleep from his eyes_. It's nothing but hiking trails. Not even a café to talk in-_

_He wants you isolated, _his subconscious mused.

The thought didn't sit well with Merlin's brain or his stomach. He glanced around the palely lit interior, trembling as he saw Arthur's face in profile. Realizing now that he was afraid. Not of Arthur. No, he could never be afraid of Arthur. Behind the cutting words, there was a gentleness to Arthur's expressions that spoke volumes to Merlin. But being left alone in a car with Arthur, the feebleness of his willpower when it came to that man- the thought was enough to make Merlin woozy.

Arthur killed the ignition. "That girl from the studio, Nimue," he said, voice rock hard. "What does she know?"


	21. Chapter 21

Merlin sat uneasy in the back seat, clasping his legs together. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're a shitty liar." Arthur replied.

"Good. Unlike some people, deception is an art I'd prefer not to excel at."

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose."Out with it," He snorted. "We haven't got all night."

The wind whipped the car windows, vibrating the glass as Merlin said, "Nimue took me to the back of the school after you and Gwen left. I wasn't sure what she wanted but- Arthur, she saw us. At the gallery. She saw everything-"

Arthur went white knuckled, gripping the steering wheel. Feeling as if he'd been thrown into thick of the storm outside, and left to drown in it. He closed his eyes and asked, "Are you sure?"

Merlin pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, tossing it on the passengers seat. Arthur eyed the iphone as if it were a snake set to strike. He picked up, slowly turned it over and pressed play. Video illuminated the screen, his own husky voice rumbling from the speakers. When the mutual panting began Arthur fumbled, dropping the phone. His reaction making an already nervous Merlin hug his knees even tighter.

"Nimue's trying to blackmail me with that," Merlin said with a wine colored blush. "She expects me to do her schoolwork in exchange for silence. She's dead serious. Arthur we have to tell to Gwen about this before she does-"

"And what would _we_ tell her?" Arthur said, whipping a glint of sweat from his brow.

"That we were drunk, stupid. That it didn't' mean anything-"

Arthur had been injured many times in his life. Been in fistfights that left him with dappled with bruising, even broken a leg from a fall off an ATV at thirteen, the bone popping out at an ungodly angle before it was set. But this, Merlin's blatant indifference to him- it stung worse then all those things combined. "So," He said, his voice barely civil. "That's how you feel-"

Merlin's teeth caught his lower lip. "How I feel about you, about us- it's irrelevant. We have to do what's right-"

The force of Arthur's punch echoed through the dashboard, making Merlin jump off his seat. "Gwen's not finding out. Period. Ever. End of discussion!"

"You're telling me you _want_ me to agree to blackmail?" Merlin snapped. "That you're- _okay_ with that?"

"You don't get the seriousness of the position I'm in Merlin-"

"That's where you're _wrong,_ Arthur. For the first time since I met you, I _get _you _perfectly_." The back door flung open with a metallic shriek and Merlin was gone, rain battering him as he trudged up the muddy road.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Arthur said, rolling down the driver's side window.

Merlin kept walking, water cascading down his scowling face. Black converse sinking deeper into the swampy gravel with each step. Arthur stuck his head out of the window and called over the crashing storm. "Merlin, get your scrawny ass in the car or I swear I'll-"

"You'll _what_?" Merlin yelled, his voice cracking. "What can you do to me that's worse then what you've already done? You've made it perfectly clear you don't give a shit about me! You're the one looking for kicks behind your girlfriend's back and I have to pay the price for it?" He trailed off, his eyes swiming with tears. gulping them back he cried, "I can't believe I didn't realize it before, I'm such an idiot. How many besides me Arthur? No, wait- don't answer that, I don't even want to know. You do realize AIDS is still out there-"

The ignition choked, headlights dimming. Arthur flew from the car, his pajamas soaking up the fury of the storm. "You honestly think I've been trying to fuck every Tom, Dick, and Harry, in San Francisco?" he yelled.

Merlin made eyes at him through his flattened bangs, and muttered something intangible.

"Yes, I flirt!" Arthur exploded, rain trickling into into his mouth, blurring his vision as he trudged behind Merlin's shivering shadow. "That's how I am! But I've never cheated on Gwen by so much as a kiss, let alone _stuck it_ in anyone. Not in three damn years we've been together- don't you roll your eyes at me, Emrys! I don't give a flying fuck if you don't believe me! I may have screwed around in my teens, but she changed that. Gwen and I, our relationship was fine until you and your scarves and your ass tight jeans came along to screw it all up-"

"_Me_?" Merlin replied, his arms held flat against his chest, as if tying to bind himself together. "How am I responsible for your sexual repression issues?"

Arthur paced through the gravel, his eyes wild. "So I've always been a little _off_, what hell does that matter? I could still build a normal life with her! Marriage after college, a house in the suburbs, in time a few kids. I've always had control over the depraved part of myself until you-" He snarled, grabbing for Merlin.

"Back off!"

Arthur had no time to react. One forceful shove sent him tumbling backward, his head clonking the side of the Honda with a sickening thud. Merlin's mouth formed a perfect zero in shock. For all their taunting they had never put an unfriendly hand on each other. Even when Arthur instigated in the most shameless manner, Merlin had, before, only defended with words.

Arthur cursed under his breath, rushing Merlin. His feet slipping in the eroding soil as he clamped him into a football hold. "Enough of this shit," He growled, forcing Merlin through the open car door. "You're getting in here, whether you want to or not-"

But Merlin, aided by the rain, slipped from his grip. He scrambled down the road, but before he could make it past the park closure sign Arthur caught him, yanking the loop of his scarf. Merlin jerked backward. With a slip the scarf unraveled, Merlin tumbling face first into the mud, the scarf sinking into a bubbling puddle beside him. He wiped the dirt out of his eyes, spit it out of his mouth, and with a curse of, "That was vintage, you prick!" charged at Arthur's legs.

They grappled in blackness until their clothing weighted heavy with water, their skin pricked raw by twigs and battered by rocks. It wasn't until Merlin's spine wedged against a boulder that he cried mercy. Arthur pinning the squirming man underneath him. "Merlin," Arthur exhaled in a low pant, the throbbing of his erection painful against his tight wet jeans. "You're being obstinate. Do you have any damn idea what that does to me-"

Merlin shuddered as their lips crashed together. Arthur's kiss was all apologies. His true feelings flowing as naturally as the rain that pounded their bodies. They had found each other again, and nothing else mattered. Not Nimue. Not the fight, or the inevitable questions that would sour their return home. Merlin didn't speak, but Arthur felt this warm arms drape around his neck. The exotic nectar of kisses gracing his lips. He pushed his longing into Merlin's hip, aching into him. Begging Merlin with his mouth, and every ounce of his body. Pleading for him to forgive, to keep this secret.

It wasn't just lust that drew them, Arthur knew that now. If it was purely lust that magnetized him to Merlin, he could have fought it. Continued the well-constructed ruse that had become his life. Undeniably he wanted to sleep with Merlin. To explore every beautiful inch of his skin, but it was more than that. He wanted this ridiculous man, with his comely looks and impish grin- to_ love_ him.

They struggled up in the rain, groping each other all the way to the dry backseat.

"You really want this?" Merlin whispered, burying his face into Arthur's shirt to mask his desperation.

Arthur's hand slipped down the front Merlin's soaked jeans. "Since the first moment I saw you," he exhaled.

He unbuttoned the waistband, tugged open the zipper. Stroking Merlin with the same light quickness he used on himself.

Merlin bucked at the touch, fingers clutching the car-seat. "Slow..." He whispered.

"Merlin, just how long has it been since you've-"

Merlin's voice was thick with need. "Over a year-" He managed, his head rolling back.

"That's positively criminal," Arthur replied, raising a coy eyebrow. "We'll remedy it immediately."

They shed their drenched clothing layer by layer, along with their inhibitions. Nothing stood between them now but the pulsing desire of skin on skin, the pleasured warmth of friction, and eventually- Merlin's breathless moans.


	22. Chapter 22

During their lovemaking the rain passed. The night cleansed into a damp silence, as if the storm had washed away the tension building in Merlin and Arthur over the last few months.

Merlin's face was nestled in the moist crook of Arthur's arm. Waking, in typical Merlin fashion, from where he had dozed. He opened his eyes, inhaling the potent salt of skin mixed with the last remnants of cologne. Listening with a sleepy satisfaction to the pull of Arthur's breaths, and the fierce rhythm of his heart. Arthur was fully awake, one arm behind his head the other cradled Merlin. Merlin let his fingers play down the firm grooves of the Arthur's six-pack, traveling the soft path of fair hair that started at his navel. The thought of Arthur's body, what his mouth had done to it, thrilling Merlin's lower half into excitement all over again.

The man looked absolutely _breathtaking_ naked, though Merlin with a yawn. And for the first time since he had met Arthur Pendragon, he looked unabashedly happy.

Merlin rolled over on his back, still weak from the ecstasy of release. He exhaled, ribs rising and falling in time with Arthur's beside him.

His fidgeting stirred Arthur, who carefully repositioned Merlin's head back onto his arm. "Where do you think you're going?" He crooned, stroking the tangled locks of Merlin's hair. "You think I'm finished with you?"

What Merlin expected next was the usual conversation from Arthur. A crude double entendre, a joke about them having to steam clean the car. At the very least he'd expected Arthur to call him a girl for wearing lavender boxer briefs.

Arthur's words more than surprised him.

"We can go public when I'm done with school," He said dreamily, tickling the cusp of Merlin's collarbone. "Two years, possibly three. I'll need to finish my degree, get established in my career before I can afford the risk of coming out-"

"Huh," Merlin replied, concerned that Arthur may have hit his head against the car a little _too_ hard during their fight. "Are you serious?"

Arthur bent down to kiss Merlin, his tongue teasing, searching, until Merlin's lungs went breathless. "I just showed you how serious I am. Twice over. Should we try for three?"

"It's been hours since you picked me up," Merlin gasped, licking his moist lips. Looking away to keep from giving in. "Aren't we forgetting something, like, your _girlfriend_?"

Arthur's face darkened. "Gwen can't know about this Merlin. And if we're careful, she won't have to."

"How can you-"

"Don't think I take pleasure in lying to her. I may be an ass but I'm not a sadist," He sighed deeply, "It would've been better if we'd called it quits before she moved to California. But I guess that doesn't matter now-"

Merlin furrowed his brow, pulling away from Arthur and into a sitting position. "If you feel that way, why not break up with her?"

"You have to understand, Gwen and I, It's complicated. We've been a couple for so long-"

"So what, you _have_ to keep dating her?" Merlin scoffed. "Out of sheer _obligation_? That's messed up-"

"Our families know each other. They go to the same church back in Indiana-" Arthur said, looking out the window at the milky white moon. Thinking how it's glow barely held a candle to the ivory of Merlin's perfect skin. He pulled Merlin back to him, nuzzling the slope of his cheekbone. "You have to understand, South Bend is a small city and gossip spreads fast. Gwen's father works under mine at the same company, and she's friends with my blabbermouth stepsister. If we break up and Nimue realizes she's lost her leverage on you, she'll show Gwen the video. If Gwen finds out the reason I dumped her is because I've been cheating, with you no less, she'll be pissed. If she's pissed, she'll talk. At the very least Morgan will call her after our breakup to wheedle information. Once that happens... if my father finds out about us...I'm _screwed_."

"What if you got Gwen to break up with you?" Merlin suggested. "It wouldn't be difficult. You're excellent at being a jerk."

Arthur chuckled, revealing the white of perfect teeth. He leaned rubbed Merlin's shoulder then said, "Wouldn't solve anything, no matter how we break up, Nimue is bound to show Gwen that video if we do. You see, It creates the same problem-"

"So the lying, the cover, it's because you're afraid of your family finding out you're gay?" Merlin said, biting at his lower lip.

"I'm not _afraid_-"

Merlin cut him off. "I get that your father would be angry, but what about your mother?"

"Dead," Arthur quipped, writing A + M on the foggy window glass with his finger. "And as much as Morgan can't stand our father, I doubt she would be supportive of me either," He encircled the letters in a heart, cocked his head to the side and asked, "What about your parents? How do they feel about you being a rainbow flag waver?"

"My family?" Merlin chuckled, blushing at Arthur's window art. "Mom doesn't care. Heck, she'd be thrilled if I finally brought a boyfriend home to meet her."

"And your father?"

"Never met him, a fling Mom had at the Spirit Rock Meditation Center. Doesn't even pay child support-" The discomfort in Merlin's expression faded to a goofy grin. "But my step-dad is supportive. He even helped me with home schooling when I had to leave my high school classes."

Arthur leaned his forehead head against the window, his breath clearing the glass. "That's not like my father at all. He'd kick my ass beyond an inch of my life if he found out I was a queer. That I could handle, it's not like he hasn't given me beatings before. But the worst of it is, he'd cut me off completely. School funding, lodging, inheritance; all gone-" He licked his lips and mumbled, "It's stupid, but since I was little all I've ever wanted was to live up to his expectations. I may not like the guy, but I respect him. He's his own man, head of a company, raised me practically on his own. Merlin, if I graduate, get a good job, then even if he didn't understand my decisions he'd have to respect me for what I've accomplished. I can't break up with Gwen; I can't risk him finding out about me until I've proven myself. Merlin, my future depends on it."

"And what about my future?" Merlin replied dryly, snatching his jeans off the floor. "Or does that even matter now that you've had your way with me?"

"I'll take care of Nimue. See if I can't get her to let up on you. Christ, I'll bribe her if I have to. Didn't I tell you that I wouldn't let anyone hurt you?"

Merlin shook his head, a laugh racking his throat. "Did you include yourself in that promise?"

"You don't believe me?" Arthur asked, playing with the elastic of Merlin's boxers, snapping it once against his skin and snaking his hand down. "Are you dead set on telling Gwen?"

"Are you insane," Merlin winced. "How could I? What we did before was bad enough, but tonight...this is unforgivable."

"I didn't hear any complaints half an hour ago-"

Merlin stopped Arthur's hand at his awakening cock, his lips forming a full pout. He threw him off and groaned. "I'm serious! I don't know how I'm going to look Gwen in the eyes tomorrow. You're right about one thing, she can't know. But that doesn't mean I'm content playing Merlin-Monroe to this Camelot fantasy of yours. I refuse to keep hurting my friend like that."

Arthur's jaw tensed. "So...what are you saying?"

"The flirting, getting together, it has to stop. I can't do that while you're still with her." Merlin said, pulling his pants up in a swift motion.

"It'll be impossible for me to leave you alone, now that I know your talents go beyond the classroom-" Arthur whispered, helping Merlin zip the fly of his jeans.

"Likewise," Merlin flushed. "But-"

"Merlin, I'm not kidding, I-"

"Don't," He said, grabbing their shirts from where they were draped over the headrests. "Please don't make this harder then it already is. I've told you my decision Arthur. That's all there is to it."

Arthur felt a sickening pang of guilt in his gut. But, really, what had he expected? For Merlin to fall head over heels for him after a fuck? To agree to do whatever he wanted, overlooking the weight of the enormous lie they'd created? Reluctantly he tossed on his shirt. "Fine. If it's what you want Merlin, I promise not to grope you..."

"Don't say it like that, it's not what I _want_," Merlin huffed, searching for his left sock under the car seat. "But it's what's best, for all our sakes."

Arthur nodded, lingering beside the man he adored, letting the memory of the night fill him up until he felt he would burst. "Well then," He said, stealing a kiss on Merlin's cheek, for what he feared would be the last time. "It's four am... Let's get you home."


	23. Chapter 23

When Arthur and Merlin arrived home, it was to the comforting blackness of a turned off porch light. Merlin ducked under the overhang, water droplets splattering his scalp from the second story. He shook his head, breath clouding in the crisp air as he peeled his feet out of his sneakers.

Arthur hesitated at the front door, the weight of the night suddenly falling heavy on his conscience. Yes, tonight they had gotten what they'd both long desired, but at what cost? He kicked out of his own shoes, not caring where they landed. Pulled the keys from his pocket, inhaling a deep breath of his own. How could he just step back into normal life, when there was still so much left to say?

Merlin clasped Arthur's hand, keys and all, as if reading his mind. The touch of his warm fingers reminding Arthur of the connection they shared. They didn't need words. Whatever was between them, it was deeper then speech could convey. He squeezed Merlin's hand once, hard, before loosening his grip. With a reluctant sigh, Arthur slid the key in the lock, turned the door handle as quietly as possible and-

"Where on earth _were_ you two!" a woman's voice shouted.

Arthur's double take had him stumbling back outside, straight into Merlin. Gwen was seated on the couch, the lace rim of a nightgown peeking out under a yellow robe. Her face taut with anger. "It doesn't take _four_ hours to pick Merlin up from the station, I've been worried half to death!"

At the opposite end of the couch, to Merlin and Arthur's joint surprise, sat Lancelot. He was fully dressed, but hurriedly, Arthur gathered. Seeing as the brown haired man's shirt had been put on backwards, a white care tag sticking out at his throat. In any other situation Arthur would have mocked Lancelot for it, but now hardly seemed the time.

"Are you my mother now?" Arthur replied mildly, helping a dazed Merlin off the ground. "And what's Lancelot doing here, playing the father?"

"More like helping me look for your ass," Gwen snapped. "Since neither one of you could be bothered to pick up your phones. I was afraid you'd gotten into an accident, I've had poor Lance driving up and down Telegraph Avenue searching for the car-" she trailed off, face twisting as she examined the men closer.

Arthur and Merlin were fully dressed, but that didn't say much. Arthur's pajama bottoms were so wet they barely held at his hips. His white T-shirt muddied with hand prints. Its fabric transparent, showcasing every ridge of his carefully crafted physique. Merlin's clothes were in similar dire straights; the hem of his jeans caked in dirt, his neck for once in the young man's life surprisingly scarfless.

"So," Gwen continued, her arms folding into themselves. "Want to tell me why you both look like swamp things?"

Arthur's jaw clenched. Damn it. He'd been so preoccupied in his pursuit of Merlin that he hadn't fully fleshed out their cover. He stared deep into his girlfriend's eyes and said, "I dragged Merlin to the White Horse for a drink. Didn't think you'd mind, seeing as I went to the trouble to pick him up. But this idiot stole my keys, and wouldn't give them back till I'd sobered up."

"And you're muddy because-?" Lance ventured.

"Because Arthur is a prick and never listens to me," Merlin replied, pallid from the lie. "He tried to walk home, you can see how well that went in the storm-"

"Arthur, what is wrong with you?" Gwen said. "Dragging poor Merlin out to a dive bar when you know he doesn't like to drink! You're a terrible influence, you know that?"

_More than you'll ever know_, Arthur thought, swallowing his mortification.

"Whereas Lancelot here should be nominated for sainthood," she continued, hugging Lancelot briefly from behind. And Lance, for all his normal composure, turned bright red as a beet under her praise.

Realization smacked Arthur as fast as a beer can to the head. He put his mind on rewind, combing it for clues. Yes, it was all there. Lance in the gallery, the lingering kiss on Gwen's hand. The glimmer of cool jealousy Arthur had seen behind the man's eyes that night, as if he'd already pinned Arthur as his competitor. Competition, yes, he'd read that much right. It was just the person he'd gotten wrong. It was never Merlin Lance was after. It was Gwen.

"Why don't you crash here tonight, Lance?" Gwen said, getting up off the couch. "No point in sending you home this late." Then she turned back to her boyfriend, pulling him by the neckline of his soaked shirt. "And you, Arthur Pendragon, I'll deal with in private!"

"I'll get the blankets for Lance," Merlin quipped, relishing his excuse to finally leave the room.


	24. Chapter 24

Sun spilled in from the open window, disturbing the human lump on the couch. Lance pulled himself free of his blanket cocoon, letting his eyes focus in the bright light. White walls. An easel in the corner caked in paint. This wasn't his bedroom, Lance thought slowly. Heck, it wasn't even his apartment. Then the memories of the previous night crept back to him. The desperate call from Gwen, the searching, the hug, and a deeper suspicion about the whole story that gnawed at him.

The living room was warm with the aroma of hot coffee and another smell he couldn't place. Spying movement in the kitchen, Lance asked in a gravely voice, "Merlin, are you _baking_?"

Merlin peeked his head out. He was dressed in his usual jeans and a striped dress shirt draped over his shoulders, unbuttoned with nothing underneath. "Vegan pancakes," Merlin said with his usual goofy smile. "And there's coffee as well."

"Why? You don't drink it."

"Force of habit from work," the raven-haired man replied, pouring a cup. "Why don't you eat before it gets cold? It's seven already."

Lance trudged into the dining room, his body aching in places he didn't think muscles could ache. "Thanks, Mer," he said groggily, blowing a halo of steam off the cup. "Man, what a night."

"How did you sleep on the couch?"

Lance ignored another stiff complaint from his spine and said, "Lets just say staying awake through Art History is going to be a challenge, even caffeinated. I don't know how you can think about cooking after so little sleep."

Merlin picked at his plate. "I'm used to late nights."

Lancelot glanced down the hallway. He knew the woman he loved was behind one of those doors. Sleeping in the arms of another man, a man who didn't deserve her. He could only hope that Gwen had ripped Arthur a new one for how poorly he'd treated her last night.

"About last night, Merlin," Lance said, looking into his friend's deep blue eyes. "You weren't out drinking, were you?"

"I didn't have anything to drink, if that's what you mean," Merlin replied evenly.

"No, what I mean is, I could tell that you weren't the only one dead sober when you and Arthur walked into the apartment."

Color filled Merlin's face. He abandoned his breakfast, walking back into the kitchen. "I should finish those pancakes-"

"Mer, what really happened?"

"I don't know what you mean-"

The brown haired man paused. Took a sip of his coffee, then asked, "Did Arthur pick a fight with you last night?"

"Of course not-" Merlin stuttered.

"Come on, its obvious you two got into a scuffle. You're home late, looking like hell. Your handprints are all over the guy's shirt-"

"I'm trying to cook-" Merlin said, spooning dollops of batter into a crackling skillet.

"He wasn't threatening you, was he?" Lance asked quickly. "Because you're gay-"

"Will you just shut up? Do you have any idea how moronic you sound?"

Lance's jaw dropped. He had never heard Merlin so irritated with him before. Not even back when they were roommates, and he'd spilt cranberry juice on Merlin's favorite shirt. He looked up, searching for words. "You told me the day you picked Arthur up from the airport that you two got into an argument."

"So, what's new?" Merlin frowned. "We argue all the time."

"Well, I just assumed-"

"You assumed _wrong_."

Lancelot put his fork down, rubbing at his forehead. "Merlin, I'm only trying to look out for you."

"I'm adult, I can look after myself," Merlin sighed, flipping the golden pancakes onto a plate. "Lance, we went to the White Horse, there's nothing more to it. I know you're eager to find fault in Arthur because of Gwen, but try to remember that he's my friend_._ Arthur may be tactless but he's not a monster."

_Arthur tactless_? Thought Lance, avoiding Merlin's angry gaze. _Now there's an understatement._

A noise creaked from the hallway.

"Gwen?" Merlin called. "I've got breakfast-"

"Sleeping. I'd say she deserves at least fifteen more minutes before we wake her."

Lancelot tensed as Arthur walked into the dining room. The rivals assessing one another openly, until a sneeze from Merlin broke their staring contest.

"Let me help with that," Arthur yawned, walking into the kitchen and picking up the plates. "Where do you want these?"

"Um, the bigger ones for you," Merlin replied hastily. "The smaller is Gwen's, just put it in the microwave. I'll heat it up when she's ready."

Arthur's complexion was bright, Lancelot noticing that the blond man was fully dressed, right down to his leather belt and socks. Merlin poured Arthur a cup of steaming coffee, and then joined them all at the table. Sneezing again into his sleeve as he sat down.

"Getting sick, Emrys?" Arthur asked, without once looking at the pale man seated across from him.

"Can't afford to," Merlin sniffled back.

Lancelot finished his meal, quickly. The last thing he wanted was to dine with a pissy Merlin, Mr. Abercrombie, and whatever lies were held in-between them. If anything more was to be had, he'd find out from Merlin in due time.

"If the bathroom's free I'll go wash up," Lance announced. "And Mer, if you change your mind about what we were discussing earlier, just give me a call, okay?"


	25. Chapter 25

"Just give me a call?" Arthur said, once Lancelot was safely out of range.

"Oh, please," Merlin replied with a stiff yawn. "He didn't mean it like _that_."

"And what did he mean it like?" Arthur inquired, squirting a waterfall of organic maple syrup onto his plate.

"Hell, the gallery- I never got the chance to explain. Arthur, Lance and I are _not _a couple-"

"Relax," Arthur chuckled. "Gwen enlightened me on that subject days ago. So what was that all about, then?"

"He knows the White Horse was a lie."

Arthur suspended his fork in mid air, a drop of syrup dribbling down his hand.

"Don't worry," Merlin said, wolfing the cold ruins of his own pancake tower. "He doesn't suspect. He thinks you tried to beat me up last night."

Arthur sucked the sticky pearl of syrup off his index finger. "He wouldn't be entirely wrong. If memory serves, I did spend a fair amount of last night on top of you."

Merlin swallowed.

"So he's digging for dirt, huh? Can't say I blame the guy. If he could prove I kicked your scrawny ass, it would certainly help his chances with Gwen."

The pale man choked, tea dribbling down his chin. "You know?" Merlin squeaked, grabbing a paper towel to blot his face.

"He's pretty transparent in his affection. We could teach him a thing or two about being discreet."

"And you're not- mad?"

"No. Why would I be?"

"Because you practically ripped my head off when you thought I was hooking up with your girlfriend!"

"That was different," Arthur replied, toying with Merlin's feet underneath the table. "That was _you_. You think I could stand the idea of anyone getting their hands on you before me?" Then he rubbed his calf against Merlin's leg, stopping when the pale man blossomed into a spectacular blush. "Although I admit," Arthur continued, lowering his voice. "Visualizing you during sex, even with a woman, was an _incredible_ turn on for me."

Merlin sucked in a breath and said weakly, "You promised no flirting-"

"That wasn't flirting, it was statement of fact. And you can't expect me to behave when you tempt me." Arthur smiled, signaling to Merlin's open shirt.

The raven-haired man hurriedly did up his buttons. "Temptation dissolved. Now seriously, we need to get ready for class."

"When do your studio's finish today?"

"Seven, why?"

"Can you get Gwen to leave with you? I want to have a talk with Nimue."

Merlin's face dropped. "I could try. I have work at eight. With all the rain, Gwen might be willing to give me a ride if I asked. But Arthur, I don't think talking with Nimue will help. She's a nasty piece of work. Studio supplies disappear around her, she talks back, even to the teachers. To be honest, I don't like the idea of you being left alone with her-"

"Nimue is my problem," Arthur said sternly. "Let me take care of her."

A shadow crept up into the dining room, silencing the two men. Lance's shirt had been righted. His wavy hair brushed clean. He stared at Merlin and Arthur then said, "Merlin, do you have any deodorant I can use?"

Merlin licked his lips. "Um, there's Tom's Of Maine in the-"

"Don't bother," Arthur interrupted. "Unless you want to smell like a tree hugger all day. I've got Axe spray under the sink."

"Thanks."

"Lancelot," Arthur continued, stabbing what was left of his meal. "I feel terrible about my girlfriend dragging you out of bed to drive in that storm."

Lancelot paled. "It was nothing-"

"No, it may have been unnecessary, but that doesn't make it nothing." Arthur replied briskly. "Gwen's a lucky woman to have such a good friend. Thank you again, Lance, for helping her."

Lancelot looked so startled, one would assume he'd just been punched rather then complimented. "Um… you're welcome," he finally managed.

"Arthur, did you actually_ apologize_ for something?" Merlin asked once they were alone again. "I didn't think you knew how."

"I'm not a complete tool."

"Debatable." The black haired man grinned.

"Your friend Lance, he's alright," Arthur replied, making certain the brown haired man was really in the bathroom. He shoved another bite of the grainy pancakes into his mouth. "Not bad looking either. Nothing compared to you of course, but I can see why she'd call on him. Maybe you should invite Lance over more often, Merlin, you know, when Gwen's around-"

Merlin gulped. "You're not thinking-"

"Oh no, I've nothing specific in mind." Arthur smirked, ruffling Merlin's hair as he cleared their dirty dishes. "But what could it hurt to nudge the two of them a little closer together?"

"There is something seriously wrong with you, Arthur."

"Agreed," Arthur replied, kissing Merlin on the cheek before he had a chance to object. "It's got messy hair, mousy ears, and is brooding at the table as we speak."


	26. Chapter 26

Arthur watched students exit the school in clusters. Skaters surfing their boards, bodies lost in over-sized sweaters. A posse of girls giggling at him as they snuck admiring looks. Arthur popped up his collar, shifting position as he checked the temperature on his phone. 54 degrees, zero chance of snow, and bright enough to wear a pair of sunglasses. _And they call this winter in northern California? _ He'd read online they were getting inches of the white stuff back in Indy. He could only hope that his father had forced Morgan to do the snow shoveling in his absence.

He pulled his sunglasses down, flashing a smile at a sauntering redhead. "Hey, Nimue, where you off to?"

He realized it read like bad pickup line, and it certainly didn't help that Nimue, with her four-inch heels and blunt bangs, looked like a Suicide Girl. But he didn't care what anyone else thought; she would understand what he wanted, and that was all that mattered.

The red head whipped around, a cigarette dangling from fat lips. Recognizing Arthur, she stared sourly.

"Got a minute?" Arthur continued, his expression hidden again by his sunglasses.

"My time is precious," she replied, her dark eyes as calm as a hurricane.

"Then how about a drink, on me?"

"Let's do each other a favor, Blondie, and cut the bullshit," Nimue said, gulping back her second shot of tequila.

"With pleasure," Arthur replied, swirling the ice in his glass. "The sooner we're done, the sooner I can stop looking at that mask you call a face."

He had brought Nimue to a bar with few patrons and even less decoration. A no frills cement establishment with black windows and an open bar. He had found the place by accident a month ago, when everything else within walking distance of school had closed for the night. The servers spoke little English, and though his high school Spanish was crappy at best, he reasoned it was the safest place to take her.

"You smooth talker," she replied, sucking the life out of a lime wedge. "That how you broke into Merlin's pants? I take it the little homo showed you my video, maybe you watched it while you jacked each other o-"

"I'd appreciate it if you kept your voice down," Arthur snapped.

"Then I'd appreciate another fucking drink."

"Listen," Arthur said, gesticulating to the bartender to pour another shot. "I'm giving you a chance to stop this now, Nimue, I suggest you take it."

She laughed in his face.

"You're taking a huge risk," Arthur pressed. "Have you considered what will happen if Merlin gets caught doing _your _class work?"

She raised a pencil drawn eyebrow at him.

"Merlin's oblivious as hell," Arthur continued. "It could happen."

"I'll drag him down with me if he's that careless," she replied. "Tell the teachers he was hiring himself out for money. It would be his word against mine."

"Unless someone spoke up for him and told the school what was really going on."

"And why would they? That _someone _knows that if _he_ keeps his mouth _shut_, I keep my fingers from sending a certain video to_ his_ girlfriend."

Arthur slammed his glass on the bar top, the light underneath flickering. The bartender turned in his direction, whispering to a waiter in hurried Spanish. Arthur let his anger simmer. "Nimue, this isn't fair. If you have to get your kicks screwing someone over, it deserves to be me, not Merlin."

"Gallant speech," the redhead chuckled, stroking the top of Arthur's hand. "And they say chivalry is dead. So then Arthur, what do _you_ have to offer in return?"

Arthur studied her painted face and said, "Cash."

"Go ahead, lover boy, open that wallet."

Arthur did just that. He licked his finger, separating the bills. "Not counting what I need to pay for your drinks, I have $170-"

She snatched the wallet from his hands, stole the money and tossed it back to him. In one swift movement the folded bills were crammed down the front of her tight shirt. "I like," she purred. "But next week I want more."

"If that's what it takes," Arthur replied, laying down what he had left to pay the check. He grabbed his backpack off the floor. "So, if we're all done here-"

"One more thing. Tell Merlin that next week he's designing and patterning my assignment for Creative Design class. Why should I soil my hands with all that work?"

Arthur stopped dead. "But we just agreed-"

"The only thing we've agreed on is that I have you and Merlin by your fucking balls. This is my game, Arthur, my rules. If you want to come out alive, you'll do exactly as I say."

Fire filled Arthur's face. The nerves in his hand twitching, devil on his shoulder begging to him to silence the harpy for good. "You're lucky," he growled, staring at her with unbridled hatred. "If you weren't a women I swear I'd-"

"You'd what, sodomize me?" She cackled, throwing a lime wedge at him. "Get the hell out of my sight, Arthur Pendragon. Back to whoever's bed you're lying in these days."


	27. Chapter 27

The Café Aroma stood out like a beacon in the thick fog. The activity of the people inside a shadow show, silhouettes played out against half closed curtains. Arthur watched the black figures bob and ebb from view. Too many shadow puppets, he thought coldly, too many complicated lives. Arthur jumped as a tawny tomcat threw itself at his knees, and then wound in out of his legs, leaving a trail of fur on his pant legs. He looked at it for a moment, and then said gruffly, "Don't give me that. I know you don't' work here."

The cat stared lunar eyed at him, replying with a drawling meow.

Arthur grabbed the door handle, cat attacking the bells as they chimed.

"Cut it out, I'm not letting you in," He snapped, trying his best to get inside without a feline stowaway. With some prodding of his shoe, he managed to finagle the cat to the side of him, and slip into the café.

It was crowded, customers filling every chair. Most of them appeared to be students, piles of books at their arms, laptop keys clicking furiously. He recognized the pretty girl with a blue apron spraying tables immediately. She was the girl from the first time he'd visited Merlin, the one who had noticed Arthur's roaming eyes. So, Merlin wasn't working alone tonight. This could complicate things.

Arthur waited his turn in line, looking over customer's shoulders to steal peeks at the tall man working the espresso machine. Merlin's movements were fluid, well controlled as he rocked the pitcher against the screaming metal arm of the steamer. For all the grace Merlin lacked in his normal life, he certainly was a master when it came to working with his hands. Arthur could vouch for this now in all things-

The woman in front of him took her latte, leaving Arthur eye to eye with the raven-haired man.

"Your radio's on the fritz," Arthur said the corners of his mouth turning into a soft smile. "I can't hear anything but white noise."

"It's a CD," Merlin replied briskly, "And that's the whole point of the band." He waited for a customer beside them to finish pouring creamer then said, "I'll see if Freya can hold down the fort for a few minutes."

Merlin grabbed a light sweater for himself, leading Arthur to a poorly fenced area out back. There was a stale perfume of old cigarettes and coffee grinds in the air, but what stole into Arthur's nose most was the dampness of the fog.

Merlin leaned against the wall, turned to Arthur and asked, "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Yes," Arthur replied, falling in next to him. "I do."

"But I don't get many breaks-"

"Then let's make this one count."

Merlin bit his lip, returning a pack of cigarettes into his back pocket. "So, how'd it go with _you know who_?"

"Badly," Arthur frowned. "I don't think she appreciated what I said about her face." Then he explained his date from hell in full detail.

"God, she was awful enough to me today without your help!" Merlin moaned, rubbing his hands through his coarse hair. "Stealing my rulers, my scissors, copying my work step by step. And the writing- she kept scratching filthy notes on my papers like a junior high bully. I spent half the class erasing them before anyone else noticed-"

"What did she write?" Arthur asked, inching himself a little closer.

"Oh you know," Merlin said, kicking a loose stone into the fence. "Inappropriate things about-" he trailed off, spotting Arthur's equally filthy grin. "Ugh, why do I bother? You're just as sick as her."

"Hardly, that woman's level of corruption is unparalleled." Arthur replied, his pale eyes locked on Merlin. "I tried. I really did. I tried to reason with her, I tried money, but nothing-"

"I know." the pale man whispered in his silky low voice.

Arthur let his hand run down Merlin's side. He kissed his ear, the side of his soft face, his neck. All the while Merlin leaned back, eyes closed, his pulse quickening under Arthur's lips.

"It's barely been a day-" Merlin exhaled, neither accepting nor denying the advances.

"Feels like a lifetime-" Arthur breathed.

Something dove at Arthur's back, making him yelp in surprise. When he turned around to face the intruder, he found it standing a foot and a half tall. "Fucking cock blocking cat!"Arthur shouted, stomping in its direction.

"Oh, that's Tom!" Merlin laughed, getting up from the wall and stroking the feline behind his ears. "He lives around here. I feed him salmon when we have leftovers."

"Tom- cat?" Arthur groaned, crossing his arms and staring down bitterly at the furry menace.

"What, I don't know his real name," Merlin replied picked up the cat in his arms, to its purring delight. "We'd better put him back over the fence," Merlin said, amused grin still firmly plastered on his face. "Freya will be ticked off if I stretch my break any longer. Or worse yet, she'll think we've been up to something-"

"_I wish_," Arthur cursed under his breath.


	28. Chapter 28

Merlin blew at the Bristol paper in his hands, putting his fashion croquis with the others drying on his comforter. Five leggy women on his bed, five finished looks. Not too shabby for an hour's worth of work, he thought proudly. He closed his painting pallet. Pushed his light board to the side, appraising himself in a tiny mirror at his dresser. His smile of triumph fading as he felt the gaunt bones of his cheeks. Turning into a full-fledged grimace once he reached the purplish bags hiding under his eyes.

The past two weeks had been difficult, but manageable. He'd spent all his waking hours at the studio. Ironically finding Nimue's schoolwork an easier burden than the increasing weight of his guilt. And though his breathing still quickened when he'd catch Arthur eye-fucking him, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for the girlfriend at the blond man's side. Still left in the dark.

Yes, Merlin had learned a lot about himself in two weeks. That a human being can survive almost entirely off cigarettes and tea for a long time. That it was best to avoid Arthur Pendragon's eyes at all costs. But above all, he'd learned his guilt manifested itself physically in the creation of pancakes, which he'd made for his roommates almost every morning since he'd slept with Arthur.

_Arthur._

The very name pestered him.

He felt through his dresser. Pausing on a stripe shirt laying innocuously with the rest of his clothes. A shirt Merlin promised himself he'd be returning to its owner-soon. Until soon became a day later, and then another. Arthur's 'accountant's shirt' cementing its position as the only shirt Merlin wore to bed at night. He took it out. Touched the collar to his face, hoping for a lingering trace of the blond man's cologne.

Who as he kidding? It had been weeks since the gallery. The aura of Arthur long gone from the garmenst fibers. Even so, Merlin tucked the shirt back into its hiding place.

Gwen was in the living room when Merlin breezed in, huffing on her cell phone. Her body sucked into a spandex ensemble that could only be attractive on a woman with her dramatic curves. Customarily Gwen exercised with Arthur on the weekends, but today the blond man was at his easel enjoying the full light of the afternoon sun. It was a rare treat to see Arthur painting with people at home, one Merlin was loath to pass up.

Arthur's grip tightened round his paintbrush when he saw Merlin, their eyes feeding one other another. Looking but not looking. He wiped his forehead once with his bare bicep. The simple gesture oozing masculinity, and sending goose bumps down Merlin's skin. How could he not stop and admire the skill of the flat filbert brush in Arthur's hand? His stony faced concentration. His technique. Arthur's every stroke as rough and impulsive as his-

"Uh huh," Gwen said loudly into the receiver, snapping Merlin from his wet dream. "Well, I warned you not to go back the scumbag but you-Hm. Fine. You want to talk to your brother?"

Arthur's eyes widened, and he mimed slashing motions at his neck with the handle of his paintbrush.

"You just missed him," she inflected, sticking her tongue out at her boyfriend. "Uh huh. You too, Morgan, we'll talk later."

The phone pulled from her ear.

"Morgan drama _again_?" Arthur groaned. "You _can_ hang up on her. It's what I do."

"I keep telling her not to hook up with her ex," Gwen replied. "But as usual she doesn't listen to a word I say-"

"Shocking." Arthur interjected sarcastically.

"You'd think she'd learn! She's been burned by Accolon twice in the past, and like I've told her, once a cheater always a cheater."

Arthur's pale eyes jumped to Merlin, then settled back on his canvas.

"I'm off to the studio," Merlin quipped, navigating between his roommates to grab a reusable tote of supplies. "Should be back by eleven."

"On a Saturday?" Gwen asked.

_Nimue's homework isn't going to magically finish itself, _he thought. But he said, "I like the studio on the weekends, it's quiet. No fights over the pressing station."

"Will you at least snack with me before you head out?" Gwen asked, settling herself at the dining room table. "I picked up sushi from Manpuku, and its not like Mr. Picky over there will help me eat it."

"I like Japanese food," Arthur snorted. "Just not the seaweed stuff."

Merlin licked his lips. "I shouldn't-"

She freed a container from a plastic bag, grabbing a piece of sushi in her chopsticks. "It's your favorite, Merlin, cucumber rolls," she said, flying the sushi like an airplane. "See how much it wants to be eaten-"

"Thanks," Merlin chuckled. "But you can do the honors."

She swirled the roll in soy sauce and popped it in her mouth, eyes closing in ecstasy. Clearly over exaggerating its deliciousness as she chewed. "I know you're excited about your piece for the competition, but don't you think you might be going a _tad _overboard? All you ever do now is work. I mean, when was the last time we hung out, shopped Berkeley together? We haven't had fun outside of class in ages!"

Merlin's heart rattled against his ribs. He knew perfectly well the last time they'd hung out. Before he'd gone and fucked her boyfriend.

"We're seeing that movie on Friday, remember? 'Swords Of Our Fathers'-" he replied, rubbing at his tattoo.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "How could I forget?"

"What, it got good reviews," Arthur said, wiping his filthy hands on his pants.

"Next movie night Merlin and I are watching a film with a plot. I'm sick of spending ten bucks just to see a guy's head lobbed off with a sword."

"I hear Orlando Bloom's in it," Arthur teased.

"Well then," Gwen replied. "At least the movie will have one redeeming feature, won't it, Mer?"

Merlin gave a faint smile back, that never touched his eyes.

"Seriously Merlin, let's make a date to hang out soon, ok?"

The raven-haired man nodded, feeling for the lighter in his back pocket. He lit up as soon as he was safe out the door.

_Torture, _he thought with a shudder, letting the smoke float round his mouth. _Smiling. Laughing. Pretending that everything's fine. All the while knowing-_

_That I love him._

_Love._

_Damn._

_That's what it is. But what am I to do with it? _

_Hope that Arthur meant what he said about coming out? Hold this aching, this longing for him inside for a few more years. How long can I pretend, hide it from the world? From her? _

_Does that make me a fake?_

_I should be used to being single. Alone. It never frightened me before; surely I can go back to that life?_

_If only love had an off switch…_

Merlin blew out smoke in a long sigh, letting the comforting taste of nicotine crowd the bitter taste of guilt.

_Fuck. I should never have slept with him. At least if I hadn't slept with him I wouldn't know what I'm missing._

His throat constricted.

_But feeling bad about sleeping with Arthur is good, right? It means I have a conscience. It means I won't let it happen again-_

_ Right? _

He looked at the passing houses, as if they held answers. But the only sign he received was the trailing growl of a terrier as he walked past its chain link fence.

_Who are you kidding, Merlin? _His subconscious heckled._You'd blow him right on the design room table __if you could get away with it_-

The raven-haired man reached frantically for another cigarette.

_No. This isn't right. My conviction is the only thing this love hasn't completely stolen from me. If I lose that to Arthur as well, what on earth do I have left?_

"Hey, you!"

A man's voice startled him, making Merlin nearly drop his lit cigarette down his shirt pocket.

"It's against federal law to smoke in here!" the balding station guard thundered, throwing out a meaty arm to halt Merlin where he stood. "I oughtta fine you for that, kid-"

"My bad, officer," Merlin whispered, walking back to the trashcan outside. "I swear it won't happen again."

He glanced down at the cigarette box in his jeans. He'd had a full twenty-pack when he'd left the house, but the fifteen-minute walk had him whittled down to seventeen.

This business with Arthur was costing him- in more ways then he'd ever anticipated.


	29. Chapter 29

In a parched, yellowed field, metal thudded on metal. A guttural cry pierced the air, sword ripping through a knight's convulsing body. The theater let out a collective gasp as the man frothed his last words.

And Merlin wiggled in his seat.

The Cinema was a local treasure. A three-room structure from the nineteen-thirties, its lobby plastered with posters from a bygone area. Merlin had frequented the place before. Killing Sunday nights at their silent film screenings. The draw of the theater was its vintage charm, but that was also its major flaw. In preserving the building's history, the original seats were kept; coarse wooden slabs without the luxury of padding or drink holders. Merlin was only half an hour into the film and already his attention span had worn as thin as his comfort.

He wrinkled his nose at the screen, folding a crane out of his gum wrapper. "These garments aren't period appropriate," he whispered to Lancelot on his right. "Nylon didn't exist in that time period, it's a synthetic polymer."

Lancelot nodded politely, but Merlin wasn't convinced the brown haired man was listening. He'd invited Lance with the expectation that he'd be equally bored by the medieval gore fest. Lance's unblinking gaze told Merlin otherwise.

When a flight of dragons descended, Gwen cuddled into Arthur's shoulder. Merlin and Lance frowned in unison as she made an assault on Arthur's lips, Merlin trying his best to mentally deafen to the smacking sound the kissing made.

Wondering if the spectacle was as torturous for Lance as it was for him.

He knew that the affection was for Arthur at least, a necessity rather than a pleasure. But that didn't make any of it easier to watch. He unfolded his gum wrapper crane, imagining what would happen after the movie. Arthur retreating to Gwen's big featherbed after a few drinks, Merlin to his pathetic single mattress-alone.

After Merlin had seen as much PDA as he could stomach, he cleared his throat and announced loudly, "I can't believe I just saw four-square holes buttons on that dress! You'd think the costumer would know buttons from that time period were mounted on a shank, not-"

Arthur pulled back from Gwen, as if on cue. "Give it a rest, Merlin, and eat some popcorn!"

Merlin cracked his gum as another head rolled across the screen. "I'd love to, but _someone _put butter on it."

The edge of Arthur's mouth twitched. He let go of Gwen's hand; turned to Merlin on his right and asked, "How was I supposed to know you don't eat butter?"

"Butter, Arthur. It's in a food group called _dairy_-"

Gwen squealed. "That dragon's going to chomp Orlando!" she cried, pulling herself back into Arthur's arms.

Lancelot pushed Merlin's legs down, leaning over the skinny man's lap. "Don't worry Gwen, he's the title character," he commiserated. "Movies never kill off their title characters."

"What about 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's' nest?" Merlin replied. "And 'Dancer In The Dark', 'The Shining'- Oh and 'Romeo and Juliet'. Both main characters kick the bucket in that one-"

Arthur smiled, first with his eyes and then with his lips. "Aren't we cheery?" He said, flicking a piece of popcorn at Merlin's head.

"Gross!" Merlin frowned, blowing a giant pink bubble. "That piece had butter on it."

"It's not real butter," Arthur replied, chucking five more pieces at Merlin in quick succession.

"Well, in that case-" Merlin said, thrusting a hand into the popcorn tub and jamming a fistful of popcorn down Arthur's jacket. Arthur yelped, spilling the tub on the floor. Kernels crunching as he pounced on top of Merlin.

"What are you two, five year olds?" Gwen hissed through her clenched teeth.

"Are not," Arthur said, grinding popcorn into Merlin's scalp. "And besides, _he _started it."

"No, _you_ started it," Merlin countered, his head trapped in Arthur's loose chokehold. "And you made my swallow my gum! I could have choked to death-"

"Good thing you're not the _title character_-"

A woman a row behind gave the group a forceful _shhhh_.

Lance's expression turned cold. "Enough," He interrupted, prying the grown men apart. "Merlin, stop talking during the movie, some of us are trying to watch it." To this, Arthur smirked, Lancelot adding, "And Arthur, act like an adult, let go of Merlin, and buy some more popcorn to replace what you spilt."

Arthur furrowed his brow, unused to taking orders from the likes of Lancelot. But in the end he shrugged in agreement, brushing kernels from his clothes as he stalked towards the aisle.

Merlin fumbled from his seat, trailing Arthur like a puppy. "And just where are you going?" Arthur balked.

"To make sure you get popcorn without butter this time!" Merlin grinned.


	30. Chapter 30

Arthur held open the double doors for Merlin, the illusion of his gentility crumbling when he spanked Merlin playfully before entering the lobby.

"What the heck was that for?" Merlin said, rubbing his ass.

"Flirting," Arthur replied, tossing the bucket in the trash as if he hadn't done anything wrong. "If I remember correctly, we weren't supposed to be doing that- or have you changed your mind about us?" he asked reproachfully.

"I wasn't flirting," Merlin pouted. "I was defending myself!"

Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin's shoulder. "I know flirting when I see it, Merlin."

Merlin's silence was unlike him. After a moment he said, "I hate it when you kiss her. "

"I _have_ to-"

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Merlin replied, shrugging Arthur's heavy arm off.

"Merlin, are you _jealous_?"

"No. Why would I be jealous? Just because she can kiss you, and hold your hand in public, and-"

"You're jealous," Arthur smiled. "Do you have any idea how cute that is?"

Before Merlin could counter, Arthur linked his arm, hauling Merlin up a carpeted staircase to the second level of the theater. "The concession stand is downstairs," Merlin said, eying the flashing text above the theater door. "And this is the same movie, 'Swords Of Our Fathers'-"

"Is it?" Arthur replied.

He herded Merlin into the back of the balcony level, seating them in the double seats by the wheelchair-reserved space.

Merlin's pulse quickened. "Arthur, if you wanted to go back and watch, why are we up here?"

The theater chair creaked as Arthur leaned into it. "I'm pretending we're on a date," he whispered to Merlin, in a deep no-nonsense voice.

"A _date?_"

"Yeah. It'll be fun," Arthur said, playing with the nautical buttons on Merlin's pea-coat. "Or are pretend dates against your no screwing around rule too, Emrys?"

Merlin gave him a despairing look.

"Gwen and Lance can't see us up here, their seats are too far back," Arthur pressed. "Merlin, all I'm asking for is fifteen minutes to enjoy your company-"

"Fine," Merlin groaned. "Out of sheer morbid curiosity, how would this 'pretend date' of yours start?"

"I'm not sure. I've never been on a date with a man. Enlighten me, how does that work? Who holds open the door for whom-"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Come on, it works the same as any hetero date and you know it!"

"Okay," Arthur said, his own eyes warm with intent. "Then why don't you start and describe it to me?"

"As usual, make me do all the hard work," Merlin replied, crossing his leg over his knee. "You pick me up at seven, and we'll go to one of those restaurants on Shattuck Avenue with good Yelp reviews."

Arthur smiled his relief, moving his arm to couple with Merlin's on the armrest. "That brick place all the UCB kids go to isn't half bad," he said. "The one with the ivy up the side. We can sit on the second floor with the blue stained glass windows. Read over the menu while you try not to look me like you're doing now-"

Merlin's eyelashes fluttered. "I can look at you-"

Arthur stroked Merlin's chin, letting his thumb come to rest in the soft indentation bellow his plump lower lip. "Then how about you look in my eyes for a change, and I'll tell you what you're wearing."

The violin music rose, the leading man on screen stripped to his tunic. His love interest spilling over her top as she halfheartedly protested the muscled hero's advances. The apples of Merlin's cheeks reddened, and Arthur continued.

"You're wearing the teal scarf I first saw you in, and your black v-neck. When you drink from your glass it slips down. I can see your collarbones, the almost non-existent dusting of black hair on your chest. Just that glimpse gets me going. Makes me think about everything hiding under your clothes and what I want to do to you when you're out of them-"

He released Merlin's face, listening to Merlin's breathing slowing. "Now," Arthur asked slowly, leaning back into his seat. "What do you want me to wear, Merlin?"

Merlin's blue eyes clouded in thought, "Your jeans with the paint stains and the shredding here-" Merlin said, gesturing to a spot on Arthur's thigh. "And your blue plaid shirt."

"That one? Last week you said it made me look like a colorblind lumber jack-"

"I like that shirt," Merlin swallowed. "You never do up the first three buttons and it drives me-"

"Go on," Arthur said resting a hand on top of Merlin's to steady its compulsive tapping.

Merlin turned his head to the side so Arthur couldn't read his expression, and in a defeated voice whispered, "The shirt drives me crazy and you _know_ it does. For God's sake, Arthur, everything about you drives me crazy-"

Arthur made an amused chuckle. "We'll finish dinner and drinks. Glasses of red wine each to relax, California style. After dinner we'll find the theater. I don't give a damn what's playing. In fact this time I choose a movie I know I'll hate." He let his lips touch Merlin's ear. "I'll take you inside, to the back row, just like this. There's hardly anyone here, but for proprieties sake I'll wait until the lights dim before I do this-" he said, resting his hand on Merlin's thigh.

The love scene on screen erupted into its full passion, clothing shed like flower petals in a dark cavern. Merlin's chest rose, his body going rigid as Arthur began to massage him. "There are people in here," Merlin exhaled, looking at three dark forms in the front row.

"I don't' care," Arthur breathed, inches away from his face. "Tonight I want to push you as far as you're willing to go-" he slipped his hand under the edge of Merlin's black coat, feeling the tip of his erection peeking over his low-rise jeans.

"I'm sorry I made you jealous," Arthur said, continuing his teasing. "But you don't need to be. I think about you, all the time Merlin, and that night in the car. I think about it when I'm in class, on the train, in the shower-Fuck. Sometimes it makes me so hard I can barely stand it-"

Merlin stared at the screen, his lips quivering.

"But that's not all of it, I think about everything. The way you smile at me when we get off the train together. How you cut off the crusts of your bread when you make rice toast in the morning. Your ridiculous ears-"

Merlin closed his eyes.

"Do you think about me like that, Merlin?" Arthur pressed, his voice becoming shallow. "Even, a little?"

Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, kissing him open-mouthed. Their noses brushing, lips making soft wet noises every time they parted for air. It was a different kind of intimacy. Savory. The gentle caresses lacking the aggression of the gallery, the night in the car. "Merlin," Arthur sighed, nuzzling into the pale man's throat. "My Merlin. Do you know how much I've missed you?"

"Why me?" Merlin asked, his voice trembling. "Arthur. Of all the people you could-"

Arthur kissed Merlin into silence, their lips bruising. "I'd ask you the same," he panted." I've given you plenty of reasons to hate me-"

"I could never hate you Arthur," Merlin said, looking deep into Arthur's eyes. "But sometimes I feel like there's two of you. The fake Arthur you feel people expect, and the person you actually are-"

"So what's the difference?" Arthur sighed. "Between the two-"

"The fake Arthur is Gwen's," Merlin said with a melancholy smile. "Whereas real Arthur is mine-"

Arthur shivered as Merlin slipped his hand into one of his deep coat pockets. He stroked Arthur up and down through the thin pocket lining. Arthur looking around then casually unzipping the front of his jeans to better sense Merlin's touch.

Merlin was taking his time, as he did with everything important to him. Moving with soft precision, to give Arthur sensation, but without being obvious enough to alert the college kids in the front row. Arthur's breathing hardened with his cock. The front of his boxers damping with pearls of pre-cum as he enjoyed these precious minutes with Merlin, pretending to watch the movie.

"How should our date end?" Arthur said, sucking gasps of air.

"Your pretend date-" Merlin whispered

"We can go back to the second floor, forget this ever happened. Or-" Arthur said, now hardly able to speak. "Sneak into the handicapped bathroom-"


	31. Chapter 31

Arthur had never sucked a man off before.

It was deceptively simple.

He unzipped Merlin's pants. Pulled the boxers halfway down, Merlin's impressive erection catching on the fabric. Smacking against his pale stomach as it freed from the cloth. _A _fresh wave of lust washed over Arthur as he worked the velvety shaft.

_Damn it. Even Merlin's dick was pretty- _

Arthur knelt on a mound of paper towels Merlin had made for him on the bathroom floor, trying to recall everything he enjoyed when he got head. Where the girls had put their lips, their hands, the tricks of the tongue Merlin had given him that night in the car to drive him mad-

He toyed with Merlin a bit, lubing with licks before sliding the member in his mouth. Arthur had never felt inexperienced when it came to sex, but this territory was completely foreign to him. Half of him wondered if he was fucking it up, but the blissful expression on Merlin's face eased that insecurity. Merlin let out a half whimper as Arthur really got the hang of things, guiding him deeper down his throat.

Merlin cradled the back of Arthur's head as he sucked, but the minute Arthur looked up he let go, as if he was afraid the touch would offend. Arthur guided Merlin's hands back into place. Feeling Merlin's fingers massage his scalp, holding on desperately as Arthur quickened his pace.

"Can I-" Merlin pleaded, his voice a ghost of its former self. "In your mouth-"

Arthur nodded, and with a few more thrusts and an intense release, Merlin was spent. Gasping his joy with a loud intake of air. Arthur swallowed the current of warm salty fluid, Merlin's fingers unwinding from his hair.

He stood to meet his lover.

Sure, he was a little sickened with the taste. But knowing that he could satisfy Merlin in some small way after all the torture he'd been put through- it made it worth it. He supported Merlin's body as he tugged up his jeans, the pale man's legs still spindly from orgasm.

"Good?" Arthur asked, with a bit too much hesitance.

Merlin unbuckled Arthur's belt as if that were answer itself. "You're sure you haven't done that before?" He grinned.

"Not on that end," Arthur replied.

"You're a natural, as I suspected," Merlin whispered, slowly unzipping Arthur's fly. "But now it's _my_ turn."


	32. Chapter 32

"Sorry you had to do that," Gwen sighed to Lancelot on her right, shaking popcorn from her leopard print skirt once Arthur and Merlin left the theater. "Some days I feel more like Arthur's keeper then his girlfriend."

Lancelot reached his arm over the empty seats between them, offering Gwen a box of Junior Mints. "It's not like Mer was acting any better," he replied. "But I can see how it would embarrass you. Putting up with that behavior from your boyfriend."

She shook a few sticky chocolates into her palm, muttering, "He's not like that all the time_._"

"Often enough."

The violin music rose, the leading man stripped to his tunic. His love interest spilling over her top as she halfheartedly protested the rugged man's advances. They were in a cave, or a dungeon. Which exactly Gwen couldn't say, to be honest she hadn't paid full attention to the movie since Arthur had left. She popped another chocolate into her mouth, letting the minty-filling tingle against her tongue. "You don't have to pretend, Lance," She said. "It's pretty obvious you can't stand Arthur."

She heard Lance's breath catch. Smelled his cologne perfuming the air between them. "I don't hate Arthur," Lance said. "I just- how do I put this tactfully? I think you could do better than him."

She stared at the man to her right. His soft tumble of brown hair, the handsome hint of stubble on his square jaw. "Arthur and I have been together for three years," she said quickly.

The edges of Lance's mouth hardened. "So, is that only reason you're still with him, or is there more I should be aware of?"

"And I suppose you know someone who could make me happier," she countered, tapping the candy box in her hand. "Is that it?"

It was a low blow.

She knew how Lancelot felt about her.

In fact, for years she'd expected a full confession from him. A confession half of her dreaded, the other half secretly longing for.

Lance's reply surprised her.

"Gwen, why did you ask me to help you look for Arthur and Merlin the night they disappeared?"

She licked her lips. "I don't know. I just knew you'd help me if I called."

"So," Lance said, resting his hand on his knee. "You knew I'd be willing to drive out in the middle of a storm, late at night, and look for your boyfriend even though you know I'm not fond of the guy."

Gwen nodded.

"In other words," Lancelot quipped "You knew that I'd do just about anything for you?"

Gwen's mouth parted, a rose blush stealing into her high cheeks.

_What a rotten trick. _

"I guess," she replied, crossing her legs.

A smile found its way back to Lance's face. _"_I'm glad," he replied. "Because you're right, Gwen."

The love scene on screen erupted into its full passion, clothing shed like flower petals in the dark cavern. Gwen taking the opportunity to stretch over the seats and hand Lance back the box of Junior Mints.

"Keep it Gwen," Lance replied, looking back at the movie screen. "It's the least I can do. Though I really wish you'd let me offer you more than just a box of half finished chocolates."

She looked sideways to cover up her blush, pretending to be engrossed in the film again. It seemed like ages before she finally heard the noise of feet padding down the aisle.

"Took you long enough," she called to Arthur.

"Long line, and _you know who_ needed to take a piss. The downstairs bathrooms weren't _clean_ enough for him," Arthur replied, heaping a pile snack foods into Gwen's arms. "Fill me, in who still has their limbs? I got Red Vines, nachos and-"

Gwen leaned in to give Arthur a kiss, her lips meeting the front end of a straw instead. "Diet Coke," Arthur said, insistent his girlfriend take a.

"And the popcorn?" Lance asked.

Merlin glided into his seat, looking pallid even for him. He took a suck from a Cherry Ice and mumbled. "Um, we forgot the popcorn-"

"Merlin, how could you forget the-"

"It's fine," Gwen said, pulling back from her soda. Letting her eyes meet Lance's briefly. "The chocolates were more than enough."


	33. Chapter 33

Arthur looked eagerly over his laptop. "You're half an hour late," he called from the couch at the back of the fashion studio.

Merlin's mop of black hair was just visible over the bags in his arms. "I fell asleep on the Millbrae train," the pale man replied, trying his best to see over his belongings. "When I woke up on the floor and in San Bruno-" a ruler tumbled from an over stuffed bag, Merlin scrambling to retrieve it. A few of his fashion classmates chuckled sympathies as Merlin dropped even more in the process.

Arthur closed his recap video of the Notre Dame vs. USC game. "What's in the bags?" he said, getting off of the couch to hand Merlin the metal ruler. "Looks like you packed your whole room up."

"Something like that," Merlin replied, scooping the rest of his tools off the floor. "I brought supplies home last night to work, so I had to bring them all back for today."

Arthur culled the heavier bags from Merlin's arms, laying the burdens on the closest patterning table. He'd considered telling the raven-haired man how in spite of classes, an appointment in the Rapid Prototyping lab to make his 1/8 scale model of a fan, and dinner date with Gwen, he'd managed to arrive a full half an hour early for their fitting. He's also considered telling Merlin that it had been torture not seeing him. Even though it was just a few busy days over the weekend that had kept Merlin away.

But Arthur didn't tell Merlin any of this. Instead he quietly assessed his two biggest threats in the room. Gwen, patterning at one of the tables, was a level blue. As always, a general risk, but nothing he couldn't handle. The redheaded snake was another matter.

Arthur had done his best to ignore Nimue when he came in to the studio with Gwen. He made a beeline for the couches, pretending he had homework assignments to finish, which was technically true. And Nimue, to her credit, seemed content ignoring him. Though Arthur attributed that to a generous payment of two hundred dollars the day before rather than a new-found morality. However, something changed in Nimue's expression when Merlin stumbled into the studio. Her eyes were now fixated on both of them. Staring past the rows of sewing machines. The woman was a code orange at least, Arthur thought sickly, a high-level terror threat.

Once Merlin was free of his belongings, he strapped a pincushion bracelet to his wrist, leading Arthur behind the shoji screen. "You can change here, it's private." Merlin said, laying a pair of pants over the screen.

Arthur stuck a fist through an apple-sized hole in the rice paper. "Private?" he inflected.

"Well, private enough," Merlin grinned. "I'll be fitting a pair of pants on you tonight, and a dress shirt. If we get through that, I have half a coat we can start on-"

Arthur grunted.

'But we'll play that by ear."

The blond man unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders in a fluid movement. He unhooked his belt, kicking out of the well-washed denim until he was left in nothing but his boxers. Then he posed against the screen, waiting for Merlin to stop blabbing and take notice of him.

"Heads up on the pants, they have a zipper but expect the waist to be loose," Merlin continued, digging through one of his bags. "It's impossible to fit a pair of pants to these stupid forms; even the male dress forms give you a womanly hip curve. That's where you come in-"

To Arthur's pleasure, Merlin blushed like a teenage girl when he saw him.

"Anything to help," Arthur said, putting his arms behind his head and flexing his hips out.

Merlin smirked, tossing Arthur the first of the muslin mock-ups. "We don't have that kind of time."

Arthur smiled back, wiggling the pants up his legs. "Tight fit," he winced, zipping up the fly.

"Supposed to be," Merlin said handing Arthur a shirt. "Button this up all the way. Even the cuffs-"

"Yes, dear," Arthur crooned. "Hey Merlin, are the pants supposed to be see-through? Christ, I can see my junk right through this thing-"

"That isn't going to be a problem, is it?" Merlin asked. Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin, the pale man adding, "Like I told you before, Arthur, this is just a sample. The real fabric will be denim."

"Good, it's hard to tell with you spacey fashion types. I thought you might be starting a new trend, 'transparent chic'-"

"If I was, I'd have picked the right model for it."

He led Arthur from the semi privacy of the shoji screen into the heart of the studio room. The speakers had been cranked up, the place resembling a sweatshop and a cheesy synth-pop club all at once. The female design students, as usual, treating Arthur's arrival as the main entertainment for the evening.

Merlin ran his fingers down Arthur's broad chest, pinching loose pockets of fabric and pinning excess as he went. "The shirt looks good," the pale man said, creating a gleaming row of pins from armpit to waist. He prodded the space between Arthur's neck and his collar. "How's the neck feel?"

"Like any other shirt," Arthur replied dully.

"Good answer," Merlin grinned. He grabbed a pillow and tossed it next to Arthur's legs, dropping to his knees to pluck the fabric along Arthur's outer thigh.

"You're making the pants skinnier?" Arthur asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"As tight as they'll get," Merlin whispered. "Now close your eyes and count to ten-"

Arthur wondered if that was a joke or warning, realizing which when Merlin slipped half his hand down the front Arthur's pants to gauge the fit.

"Perv," Arthur mouthed wordlessly, flinching as Merlin's fingers brushed just bellow his bellybutton.

"You wish," Merlin mouthed back, unstopping in his task.

"You'd better not make me hard," Arthur mouthed.

Merlin glanced round the classroom, slipping his hand down a bit further.

"Damn it, Merlin," Arthur growled. "I'm doing you a favor so don't tempt me-"

Merlin quickly withdrew, the color leaving his face. "You aren't supposed to say that out loud," he whispered back. "You were supposed to mouth it-"

"Relax," Arthur mouthed. Later whispering. "No one heard."

Like a shark sensing blood in the water, Nimue got up from her machine. Her four-inch heels clomping over to the patterning rack. Arthur wondered if the pattern she hooked onto the pole was of the many Merlin had made for her that week. She slinked over to where the men were and said in a silky voice. "What's that, Merlin? That doesn't look what I asked for-"

"I can't work on your assignments until everyone leaves. _You know that_," Merlin sighed. "It's my project for The Art's Of Fashion Foundation Competition."

She whistled. "Not bad, but you should take more in _here_-"

She stole a few pins from Merlin's wrist, and ran a hand down Arthur's shoulder. Arthur flinched, waiting for the metal to puncture, but it did nothing more villainous than adjust a seam by a sixteenth of an inch. "Bet a certain some is loving Merlin on his knees-"

"This is a fitting, Nimue. It's completely platonic-" Merlin whispered.

"As platonic as your _friendship_," she said, making long work of a simple task. "Disgusting. Flirting with poor little Gwenie in the room. I really feel for her, you know, woman to woman." She loosened the collar at Arthur's neck and said. "I'm starting to think I've been too easy on Merlin, don't' you agree, Arthur? If he has all this free time left to play with you-"

Arthur's shoulders tensed. "Back off," he snapped. "Just let him finish his work."

Nimue rolled a pin in her fingers, her mouth flashing white canine teeth. "Or what, lover boy?"

"Don't you have your _own _work to do?" A female voice shouted. Gwen had abandoned her sewing machine, giving the redhead a dose of her famous 'Fuck off' face as she walked towards the group.

Nimue's mouth contorted.

Arthur and Merlin held their breath.

To their surprise, the redhead replied pleasantly, "Of course. But Merlin wanted a second opinion on his fitting with Arthur. I'm just helping a friend-"

"I can manage Arthur from here," Gwen said, butting in-between him and Nimue.

"Keep telling yourself that, honey." The redhead smiled. She stabbed the pin back into Merlin's bracelet with a hollow chuckle before heading to her machine, hips swinging in her clinging miniskirt.

Gwen watched Nimue out of the corner of her eye, waiting until the redhead was fully out of hearing. "What the _hell_ did she mean by that?" she asked, crossing her arms, staring at the two men as if they were criminals.

Merlin stood up, playing with the pins on his wrist. He looked down and said quickly, "I think she has a crush on Arthur."

Arthur gave Merlin an incredulous stare, the anger in his face almost audible. "For fuck's sake, that woman does _not_ like me!"

"Oh, she does," Merlin replied, his face as red as a cranberry.

"Merlin, if you suspected that, then why didn't you ask me for help with Arthur?" Gwen sighed. "I know you like to play nice with everyone, but some bitches aren't worth the effort. And Arthur, if she comes back, do the fucking nice boyfriend thing and tell her to scram, will you?" she snapped.

"With pleasure," Arthur replied. "I feel like I need an STD test from just her touching my shoulder."

Gwen laughed a little, and then circled Arthur, undoing the poor adjustments Nimue had made. "Merlin, this looks good. But is this really all you've done? You've been at the studio all week, I'm surprised you've only gotten this far on your competition mock-ups-"

Merlin rubbed his neck, "I had issues with the patterns. And I couldn't decide if the shirt should be French seamed or not-"

"You're over thinking," Gwen said, her voice a touch softer. "The original design was gorgeous, just relax and go with it."

Merlin nodded, shortening the hem of Arthur's pants. Gwen kissed Arthur possessively on his cheek before making her exit.

Both men practically collapsed when they got back to changing area. "I don't get it," Merlin whispered to the blond man. "I thought for sure Nimue would tell-"

"If you haven't noticed, Merlin, she _enjoys_ toying with us," Arthur replied, carefully removing Merlin's pinned samples from his body. "She knows Gwen is thin ice; if I know that monster, which unfortunately I do by now, she prefers keeping my girlfriend in the dark and her own pockets lined."

"I suppose," Merlin swallowed, handing Arthur back his real shirt. "But that doesn't explain her touching you."

"I can't believe you said that to Gwen!" Arthur said, remembering Merlin's offense. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"But it is true!" Merlin blushed. "I think she's secretly hoping you'll fall for her, get married. Have beautiful children with blond hair and red lips that run around cursing and stealing from people's pockets-"

"Were you born this strange or do you try at it?"

"A little of both," Merlin replied, folding his samples back into his bag. "Well, from now on lets do fittings at the apartment. It's too risky- all of us in the same room. My nerves can't handle that again."

Arthur nodded in hearty agreement.


	34. Chapter 34

Merlin pushed through the junior rack, finding hanging patterns labeled in red cursive scrawl. _Everything about Nimue is lazy; _he thought with irritation, _even her penmanship_. The redhead hadn't taken the Monday skirmish in the fashion studio lightly. Enacting her wrath on Merlin by doubling his amount of work.

He threw the patterns to the table, rolling out two yards of periwinkle silk. He would have to French seam it all. Hand roll the hems. Nimue may be an incompetent seamstress, but she wasn't a novice designer. He knew if she so much smelled an overlock machine near her assignment, she'd call off their deal.

Two hours passed, the clock on the wall reading 9:00pm. 'Heart-Shaped Box' played at random from the speaker doc, the lyrics crying in time with the thump of the machine's motor. The frustrated growl of a man trapped in love's snare singing to Merlin as he toiled further into the night.

He could relate.

Merlin noticed with vague interest that he couldn't feel the tips of his fingers anymore, even though they responded to his demands. He guided the silk through the machine. Watching the silver needle impale it with white thread. He released his foot from the pedal and held his hands to his face.

_How could he have such beaten and abused things attached to his body? They looked like coalminers hands. Washerwoman's hands-_

He left his workstation, pulled a bottle of rose balm from his bag, massaging the pink paste into his palms. A tap on the window revealed a blond man in a blue plaid shirt, smiling as wide as the Cheshire Cat. Merlin nodded, and Arthur let himself into the unlocked studio.

"We don't have an appointment," Merlin said.

"I know, just thought you might be hungry," Arthur replied, holding a brown paper bag above Merlin's nose. "I went to that grocery store you like, the one that smells like new age bullshit. Have you eaten?"

"Not yet," Merlin smiled weakly.

Arthur watched Merlin guide a pizza cutter-looking tool along marked lines on silk. Twisting and turning with each curve until the fabric fell away from itself. "Well," Arthur pressed, putting the bag on the table. "Dig in."

"Jesus, not on the fabric!" Merlin yelped, throwing it back into Arthur's hands. "I need to finish this first."

"When did you last eat?"

"I dunno. Breakfast, I guess."

"That was thirteen hours ago-"

"Lovely, you can do math," Merlin quipped, picking up the cut silk pieces and pinning them to their mates.

"And when was the last time you shaved?" Arthur said, rubbing his hand against the stubble on Merlin's drawn face. "I've never seen you leave the house without a clean shave. I wonder what it would feel like if I-"

Merlin caught Arthur's hand. "Please," He said, his eyes deep and weary. "I have to get this done."

Arthur uncoiled Merlin's fingers. "You will stop," He commanded. "You will take a break, and you will eat. That's not a request."

"I'm behind enough as it is-"

'Then let me lighten your load. It's the least I can do."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," Arthur purred, wrapping his arms around Merlin's slender waist. "There has to be something I can do for you-"

"Oh, I know exactly what you want to do for me," Merlin groaned. " And besides being completely exhausted, there's a security camera in here. The last thing I need is to get kicked out of CCAC for having sex in the fashion studio."

"Enticing idea," Arthur smiled, "But that's not what I meant. I'm asking you what I can do to help you with your _project_. For fuck's sake, you think I enjoy seeing you toil? There has to be something I can do to help-"

"You could come out to your girlfriend," Merlin snorted.

"Besides that."

"Oh, I don't know-"

Arthur pressed a tin foil wrapped cylinder into Merlin's hand. "Look, I got you a hummus wrap. I even checked with the cashier to make sure it's vegan. Do you know how painful it was for me to have that conversation?"

Merlin unwrapped the corner, taking a sampling bite. His eyes going half lidded as he chewed. How had he not noticed before now that he was starving? He let his shoulder fall into Arthur's; eating a few more bites as the blond man's hand massaged the small of his back.

"Fine," Merlin conceded. "You can take the black dress hanging over there to pressing station. Just steam it top to bottom until all the wrinkles relax."

"Can do," Arthur smirked. "Now get to eating, skinny, before you disappear on me."

Merlin felt his default grin falling back on his lips. He ate his wrap, scrolling through the long list of unread emails on his phone. Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe all he needed was a breather. Some food and a moment of sanity, and before he knew it, the long and wretched night and Nimue's critique assignment would be-

"SHIT!"

Merlin quickly swallowed his mouthful of food, weaving in and out of the labyrinth of tables to the back of the classroom. Arthur's face was ashen, an iron clutched in his hand. He was staring at the dress underneath him. Or, more precisely, the chard imprinted of the iron stamped like a logo on the front of it.

"Fuck!" Merlin cried, snatching up the dress. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"It just happened-" Arthur gulped, putting the scalding iron back in its metal rest. "I swear, I didn't mean to-"

"I asked you to STEAM this, what are you doing with an iron in your hands?"

"I was steaming it!" Arthur said, gesticulating the iron as the culprit. "See, the iron's on the steam setting!"

"Steam setting? Arthur, a steamer and an iron are two different things!" And, proving his point, Merlin dragged a vacuum like machine out from behind the ironing board. "_This_ is a steamer!" he shouted. "That's an iron, which should NEVER, EVER touch my silk!"

"Merlin-"

"God, that was my piece for critique tomorrow," Merlin wailed, laying the garment on the table to examine the damage. "Do you have any idea how long it will take me to fix this?"

"I'm sorry-" Arthur's voice wavered, his hand cupping the thin man's shoulders.

But Merlin only tensed under Arthur's touch. He took a deep breath through his nose, closed his eyes and said, "I should have explained. Of course you've never worked with a steamer, and when would you have ironed silk? I should have been more careful- "

"Is there anything I can-"

"No," Merlin snapped. "The dinner, the helping, it was sweet, but I have to work. I just don't have time for distractions."

There was a long silence. Arthur shifted on his heels.

"I'd like you to leave the studio," Merlin pressed.

"Merlin, it's all right, we can fix this, together-"

"No," Merlin said, his words exploding in a teary sleep deprived rant. "No Arthur, we can't fix this! We can't fix any of it! Because of you I'm behind on all of my school work, I'm lying to one of my best friends, and I'm going to fail my critique tomorrow! For fuck's sake, can you stop screwing with my life for five minutes and leave me alone?"


	35. Chapter 35

_Stop screwing with my life._

_Leave me alone._

The words still bit.

Arthur nursed his beer, watching the after hour's crowd through a half open window. Twenty-something's flooding the sidewalks as if they owned them. Men in starched suits speed walking under a gray December sky. He pulled out his phone, texting a number he looked at often in his address book, but rarely called.

_Merlin. I'm sorry. Call me._

Arthur had hoped that company and the cold kiss of a few drinks would kill his misery. But if anything, Gawain's drumming at the edge of their table was pulling him deeper into reality. The last place he wanted to be. Arthur scowled at Gawain through the dirty red light of the bar. "Do you have to keep doing that?"

"Can't help it," Gawain said, flipping his hair like a Vidal Sassoon commercial. "The DJ's on a roll. I say we prowl the floor. Lots of UCB girls looking drunk as hell."

"I'm not in the mood," Arthur replied, grabbing a handful of tortilla chips.

"Why are you such a downer tonight, Pendragon?"

_Where to start?_ Well, _I've been sneaking around to avoid having sex with my girlfriend. The man I'm in love with basically cussed me out, and worst of all I fucking deserved it. Oh, and a psychotic bitch has been bleeding me like a leech._

"Relationship problems," Arthur sighed, finishing his beer.

"Had plenty of those," Gawain said admiring a passing brunette. "The way I see it man, you got two options. Try to work things out with her or get hammered, so, which are you gonna pick?"

Arthur checked his phone.

No reply from Merlin.

He flagged down the bartender. "Take a guess," he said, taking a long pull on his fourth beer.

Arthur opened the door to a pristine white room that lodged nothing but silence. He slapped the wall for the light switch, giving up after three unsuccessful attempts. That morning he'd stripped his pajamas, emptied his backpack and, after dressing, bid Gwen goodbye from her nest in the covers. The floor was spotless now, the leg of his pajamas peeking from the wicker laundry basket. The textbooks from his backpack stacked vertically on Gwen's desk. He walked over to them, running his hands across the battered spines. Thinking of who had put them there.

Trying to forget the still empty room on the right.

An enamel frame caught his attention, or more precisely, the faces grinning behind the glass. He picked it up.

Halloween. He'd refused to be anything; still, Gwen and Merlin had dragged him into the Halloween store, loading his arms with neon cobwebs and poorly molded plastic spiders. The three of them spent a bottle of cider and three hours making their patio into a glowing spider web, only to have five trick-or-treaters show up. Together they'd finished a bowl of candy, Arthur's veins buzzing with sugar as if he were ten again. Plastic cobwebs glowing radioactive under the patio light.

They'd had a neighbor take the photo. He was on the right, dressed in a Hollister shirt and a two-dollar crown they'd forced on him. Gwen was in the middle, a curvy Cleopatra. And Merlin, who had taken Arthur's passing sarcasm into action, was in the white gloves and polyester cape of a hack magician.

Arthur put the photo down, feeling his guilt fester. What simple lives they'd had-before he'd gone and contaminated things with his cowardice. He collapsed onto the bed, cuts of moonlight streaking across his bare feet from the picture window. Gwen's childhood teddy bear stared at him from the headboard with crooked eyes. Arthur sat him up, looked at his lifeless expression and said sternly, "Gwen, we need to talk."

He adjusted the bear's drooping head. "You know that old saying, _it's not you, it's me?_ I always thought that was full of it, but it turns out-hey, are you even listening?" he said, flicking the bear's nose.

"Gwen. There isn't an easy way for me to say this. I'm cheating on you. There, I said it. I'm cheating on you. And I'm so, so, so, so, so, so-"

The sound of keys startled him; he pushed the bear face down into the blankets.

Gwen walked into their bedroom. "Were you talking to me?" she sighed. "I thought I heard you say something."

_Tell her, for Merlin's sake, and for hers! _Arthur's intoxicated brain screamed._ Do it now, you fucking pussy!_

"I, um-"

"Hmm?" she said, slipping out of her work-pants.

"Forget it, nothing important," Arthur mumbled into a pillow. He could see the teddy bear scowling at him from the corner of his eye. He flung it across the room.

"Hey!" Gwen said, grabbing her beloved bear. "What did Roger ever do to you?"

"I don't like how the little fucker looked at me," Arthur huffed.

She put a hand on her hip, looking strangely authoritative for a woman in only a shirt and panties. "You're shitfaced, aren't you?" she said.

"That's a matter of opinion."

She jumped on the bed beside him, her bare legs a tangling into his. "Then it's my opinion you're shitfaced."

He rolled to the side. "It takes more then a few drinks to get me shitfaced. Gawain and I hung out after class. It was a bad day at school, I needed to unwind."

He could feel the fullness of her breast pressing against his spine. Her little hands massaging the knots in his shoulders. "You think you've had a bad day, try working at The GAP. People asking you how they look, for sizes you don't even carry-" she chuckled, kissing Arthur's jaw line. "You know, Merlin's out of the house, love. Just you and me-how about we take the opportunity to do some unwinding of our own? It's been a while-"


	36. Chapter 36

Arthur stumbled naked down the hallway, struggling to pull his boxers up his legs. He counted it a victory that he covered his ass before reaching the bathroom. He slammed the door shut, hearing the sticky movement of Gwen's feet outside.

He threw himself at the toilet, doubled over, the last few hours exploding into the bowl with a terrible force. His stomach retching over and over again, until it was empty. He struggled up from the floor, flushing the toilet as the door creaked open.

He couldn't look at her. Not yet. Not if he wanted to keep from worshiping the porcelain throne all over again.

Arthur leaned his full weight on the sink, hearing Gwen's breathing behind him. He had never been one for false modesty. He knew he was a good-looking man. But the thing peering back at him in the mirror tonight-it was ugly as sin.

"How much did you drink?" she asked softly.

Arthur let gulps of water purge the bile from his throat. "I lost count at ten."

Air pulled through Gwen's teeth. "I haven't seen you puke like that since high school. Arthur, is everything okay?"

"No," Arthur exhaled his voice shaking. "My mouth tastes rancid and half the vomit went up my nose."

"Lovely," Gwen frowned, patting his back. "Remind me to yell at Gawain for sending you home this drunk. I'll get you a glass of water, love, do you need me to help you back to bed?"

"No, I think I got the worst of it out, I just want to take a shower," Arthur pleaded.

She stroked her hand across his waist and left him.

He turned on the shower, praying that water could wash away the world. Back to his old self? To the man Gwen once knew? Never, he thought, banging his head against the glass. He would never attempt to sleep with her again; never try to hide inside her body. Even if his mind was willing to peruse the lie, his body now flat out refused.

He loved Merlin.

And he knew now, no one else would ever be enough.

Gwen was still asleep when Arthur left their bedroom. He rapped once on the door on the right and when no one replied, peeked in. The room was its usual disorder, but the bed was made, which meant only one thing: Merlin hadn't come home last night.

Arthur dug through the fridge, pouring a glass of Merlin's Calistoga water into Merlin's favorite cup. He swished the fizzling carbonation in his mouth until Gwen appeared behind him.

_Fuck._

_This was going to be torture._

"Arthur-" Gwen said, starting a kettle.

"You're a very attractive woman," Arthur said, taking a gulp of air as he stuttered. "Very, very, attractive-"

Gwen's lips puckered. "Umm….."

"I just wasn't feeling well last night. I was drunk," He flushed. "The male body isn't a machine, sometimes it doesn't-"

"Do your classes end early today?" Gwen asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

The blond man nodded his relief, pouring a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes.

"I was thinking we could eat dinner tonight on Valencia, spend some quality time together; we haven't done that in while-" She ran a hand through her loose ponytail. "I feel like it's what we need, Arthur, you and I. Take our minds off of finals. Kat says Luna Park is good restaurant, a bit pricy but-"

Arthur made a non-committal noise through his chewing. Thanks to a certain redhead, his wallet was sadly empty this month.

"The restaurant makes their own corn dogs," Gwen pressed. "From scratch."

"Sold," Arthur replied, tapping the end of his spoon at the table like an auctioneer's gavel.

Gwen made an airy laugh, which seemed to raise both their spirits. "My studio class is having an open critique in the main building today. How about you meet me there at four, say a few nice things about my dress, and when it's over we'll head out to dinner?"

Didn't she have that studio class with Merlin? It would be the perfect excuse to see him. To try and apologize again for last night-

"Okay," Arthur said. "But what do you want me to say about the dress?"

"That it's the most awesome garment you've ever seen."

"How about I pretend to be blind then act like the dress cured me with its miraculous beauty?" He teased.

"Sure," Gwen smiled. "It's not like the teacher knows we're dating."


	37. Chapter 37

Arthur and Gawain had been in the school library for over an hour, a pile of magazines stacked in a pyramid between them. The group assignment sounded simple enough. Improve upon an existing design, keeping in mind material and manufacturing costs, and create a mock client presentation at the end of two weeks. And it could have been just that easy, thought Arthur, if Mr. Hopper hadn't assigned the frigging iPhone as their jumping off point.

Gawain rolled his head to the side, so relaxed in his chair he'd practically fused to it. "Got anything?" he asked, playing with the seashell charm of his leather necklace. "Cause I got jack here."

"Nothing in this library is doing it for me," Arthur replied. "I say we do the exact same design but in 18 karat gold and call it a day."

"And add a laser. Everybody likes lasers," Gawain chimed, pretending to explode Arthur with his phone as the blond man played along.

The librarian shot them a nasty look from her desk, so Arthur silenced his laughter and tossed Gawain his sketchpad. "But seriously, this is all I got so far."

Gawain flipped the curtain of hair from his eyes, turning the sketchpad sideways. "Not bad bro, I can work with that."

"Yeah, but it's not Jonathan Ive good. We've still got our week cut out for us."

Arthur's jacket pocket vibrated. "Four already? Sorry, I have to head out."

'The little woman?" Gawain grinned.

"She has open critique today. I promised I'd show and support her. Want to join?"

"And look at dresses for forty minutes?" Gawain said, kicking his legs up on Arthur's newly empty chair. "Yeah, I'll pass."

Arthur mingled himself into a group of observers. He stood behind a loose semi circle of folding chairs, already recognizing students from the department. Kat's neon pink hair, Gwen's romantic curls, and the messy black hair of the lone male of the bunch. Arthur noticed immediately that Merlin was in the same clothes he had worn the day before, his face still unshaven. And, save for the clothes, he didn't look like Merlin. At least, not the Merlin Arthur loved.

This Merlin was silent, lifeless. Without even the energy to bounce his legs as he sat, in that neurotic way he sometimes did. The bags under his eyes making him look a ghost of his former self.

It was a heart wrenching. Seeing Merlin like that-

An older woman with a blunt pixie cut and an immaculate pink pantsuit began the critique, Introducing herself as Mrs. Barbara Blaze. Her voice echoed in the openness of the building, drawing curious students on their way to class.

The first presenter began, looking to her classmates as she described her creation. The longer she spoke, the more her eyes darted into the sea of unknown faces. At the end of the presentation, as Gwen had told Arthur, there was an open critique. Fashion students politely describing what they enjoyed about the garments, and what needed room for improvement.

Every now and again a hand would shoot up from the standing crowd, a painting major making a smart observation about one of the prints. An architect student on their way to the café observing how a particular dress reminded him of his favorite Frank Lloyd Wright.

Then Merlin's turn came.


	38. Chapter 38

Merlin felt his legs quake as his name was called. Like a man sent to the gallows, he dragged his feet as he walked toward his looming death. Knowing that even if he wore a brave face, things were bound to end poorly for him. He stood next to his dress form, not looking at the butchered garment that hung from the size 8 body. With a deep breath, he began to weave the most elaborate art school bullshit speech of his life.

"As you can see," Merlin said, clearing his throat. "This garment is a cocktail dress."

_Because I ran out of fabric-_

"The front is a purposeful contrast color, meant to give the observer the illusion of a more slender silhouette."

_Purposeful in the sense that I was forced to tear out the iron-wrecked piece that was in there, and I only had purple left to put in-_

The crowd was already buzzing. Staring. Merlin could feel his face redden. He let his eyes un-focus.

_"_It's supposed to be a statement piece."

_That statement being help me-_

"That is to say-"

The teacher's hand went up, and Merlin stopped mid sentence. She circled the dress form no taller then her, giving it a spin to examine the back zipper. Her mouth flattened, crinkling her already wrinkled face. Terrifying, thought Merlin, that such a small woman could exude ferocity with the simplest of actions.

She turned to Merlin and said, "You've made a statement piece, Mr. Emrys, but it stands out for all the wrong reasons. This garment looks like it was pulled together in five minutes. The finishing is sloppy and I see you couldn't be bothered to hem the raw edges. You do realize this was a week long assignment?"

Merlin bit the inside of his lip, trying not to fall to the siege of emotions battering him. "I-"

"Mr. Emrys, this work is disappointing to say the least," the teacher sighed, tapping her pencil on her grade sheet. "I'm sorry, but if you can't be bothered to finish the assignment, I can't be bothered to critique it. Sit down. You and I will be talking after class."

It was as if the judgmental stares rooted Merlin in place. He looked shamefully at his classmates, then to the strangers in the school who would judge him for this pitiful work. It was then he noticed the tall blond standing at back of the crowd, his blue eyes glazed and expressionless. A man who, in the few passionate months of their acquaintance, had asked Merlin for his heart- which Merlin had stupidly given him. His love systematically stripping him of every last piece of dignity he held. And now, Merlin knew unequivocally that his greatest fear had been realized. Loving Arthur had cost him everything.

The audience erupted in hushed gossip, tears streaming down Merlin's face as he took his seat. He couldn't cry, not here. He couldn't give Nimue that satisfaction-

Gwen was just as pale as Merlin when he claimed the seat beside her. Her eyes twice their normal size, hand automatically rubbing Merlin's drooping shoulders.

He shook her off.

"Next we have Ms. Evienne," the teacher announced.

Nimue stepped beside her dress form, curling her fingers round its waist.

"Can you explain your piece, Ms. Evienne?"

Merlin didn't hear a word from her crimson mouth, all of his senses fixed upon the dress at the front of the room. The dress he knew every inch of, every fiber. How the delicate bias cut of the skirt folded. The hand rolled hem, flat pressed and only a fourth of an inch wide, which had cost him a burn on his thumb. Voices of praise rose up around the room. Merlin noticing that even Gwen was straining to get a closer view.

"I can see you've been busy, Ms. Evienne," Barbra said, jotting notes on her grade sheet. "A beautiful piece, masterfully executed. The line of covered buttons down the back is a nice touch, time consuming I'm sure. I hope to see this kind of initiative with all your assignments going forward."

Nimue smiled a carnivorous grin, savoring the applause, then clomped contentedly back to her seat.

"Does anyone else have anything to add about the piece?" Barbara asked.

A hand shot up from behind the folding chairs.

"And your name?"

Merlin's heart caught.

Arthur walked to the front, as graceful as if he were strutting a catwalk. In one violent motion he ripped the blue silk gown down the back with his bare hands. Buttons rained upon the floor. The room inhaling a collective gasp as what was left of the once beautiful dress tumbled into ruin on the concrete.


	39. Chapter 39

"This is my review of _Ms. Evienne's _work," Arthur said, his tone heavy as a sledgehammer. "She's done nothing for this presentation, and that's what she deserves to show." He scooped the shreds of cloth and combed through the crowd, placing them ceremoniously onto Merlin's lap. Merlin barely knew how to receive the gift, staring up at Arthur with thinly veiled shock. "I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur said gently. "That makes two of your dresses of I've ruined in less than twenty four hours-"

Nimue's eyes vibrated, her gaze burrowing into Arthur as she stood. "How dare you come into this critique, destroy _my_ work and insinuate that I-"

"I'm not_ insinuating_ anything!_" _Arthur said, the fever of his anger rising._ "_You and I both know Merlin made that dress_, _just like every assignment you've turned in for the last month! You're a liar and a cheater-"

"_Cheater_? You're the one_ fucking_ Merlin behind your girlfriend's back!" Nimue shouted into his face with a throaty wail.

Arthur felt like a character from "Swords of Our Fathers," watching sickly as his blood spilled through his fingers. He had known there would be a high price for his impulsiveness, and Nimue had gone straight for the jugular. He may have exposed her for fraud-but the bitch had _gutted_ him.

The teacher's voice rose over the amassing alarm, struggling to maintain authority.

"What's wrong, Arthur," Nimue smiled, pursing her red lips. "Didn't want anyone knowing you're a _faggot_?"

His eyes moved slowly to the two other people involved in his shameful love triangle; the people for whom he cared most. Merlin was cardinal red. Gwen saucer eyed; her pained expression leaving a sour taste in Arthur's mouth. He didn't want anyone to look at him, but that's exactly what every face within twenty feet was doing. It was the nightmare of standing naked before a massive crowd; but he was wide-awake in this living hell. He prayed for an earthquake. Ideally the magnitude seven the papers threatened could strike the San Andreas fault at any time—

But it didn't come.

Mrs. Blaze inserted herself between the students, heaving Nimue forward. "I do not tolerate hate speech in my classroom under any circumstance, Ms. Evienne!" she growled. Then she set her sights on Arthur, cuffing his forearm. "I've had enough out of the both of you! If either of you speaks another word, consider yourself expelled. And _you_, Mr. Emrys-"

Merlin swallowed audibly in his seat.

"I think it's best," the teacher sighed. "If you join your unruly classmates at the counseling office."

* * *

The shiny brass placket on the desk read 'Carol Lynn, Assistant Director of Psychology'. A claim backed up by a doctoral degree bragging on the wall above. The room was luxurious; every surface decorated with colorful abstracts, making it look more like a Jackson Pollock gallery than an office. The counselor quietly entered the room. She was a young forty, her gray hair streaked with magenta. It struck Arthur as an unusual style choice for a woman her age, but she carried it well.

"Mr. Pendragon-" She began.

"Mr. Pendragon is my father," Arthur replied briskly. "You can call me Arthur."

The counselor assessed him with a curious look, then continued. "Arthur, Mrs. Blaze tells me there was an incident between yourself, a Miss Evienne and a Mr. Emrys during an open critique?"

The petite shadow of said teacher hovered outside the frosted glass door, reminding Arthur of the bruising his arm would feel tomorrow. He cracked his shoulders. Truth be told, he was terrified to be here, but he'd be dammed if he'd let the counselor notice. "Something like that," he replied

"Ms. Evienne is giving her statement of events to my colleague as we speak, and Mr. Emry's will be after her," Mrs. Lynne said, pulling out a yellow legal pad. "As a school counselor, everything you tell me will be kept under strict confidentiality. But before we proceed, I want you to understand that Ms. Evienne's language towards you was in direct violation of the school's hate speech policy, and will therefore be properly addressed. However, her behavior does not diminish the seriousness of your actions, Arthur, or your allegations against her."

"I stand by what I said at critique," Arthur replied. "The dress Nimue showed wasn't hers. I didn't mean to freak anyone out; I couldn't stand that woman taking credit for work she didn't do. Something in me just…snapped."

"Can you elaborate?" Mrs. Lynne asked, jotting down notes.

"Nimue has been blackmailing Merlin. Forcing him to do her studio assignments. The dress I ripped wasn't even hers. Not really. All the the sewing, the patterning, it was all Merlin's.

Carol's expression was unreadable. "And what is Ms. Evienne supposedly, blackmailing Mr. Emrys with?"

"She has-" despite his best effort Arthur blushed. "A compromising video of Merlin and I. She threatened to make it public if we didn't do what she wanted. I told Merlin that no one could find out about us, especially not my girlfriend. So we struck a bargain with Nimue. For the past month I've been paying Nimue for silence and Merlin's been working for it."

"I take it you were concerned for your relationship with your girlfriend? If the video were made public?"

Arthur looked straight at the counselor and said, "Gwen and I have been together for years, she'd be furious if she found out I cheated on her. There's no way I could guarantee that she wouldn't tell everything to my sister. My Father is pretty religious. If he found out about Merlin and I, It would be-bad."

"Would he be angry?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, besides cutting my school funds, let's just say I don't think I'd be invited home for Christmas. My father isn't very fond of that 'lifestyle', so to speak."

"Do you consider yourself a gay man, Arthur?"

He'd expected this to be brutal. But hadn't expected the damn Spanish Inquisition. "I've dated woman just fine," he swallowed. "But I've always been- curious. You have to understand I'd never considered _trying_ anything with a guy until Merlin-" he leaned back in his seat. He wanted to say it out loud. To see how it felt. Here in this room, with a woman legally bound to silence seemed as good a place as any. "Yeah," Arthur said. "I'm gay."

The counselor seemed unaffected by his revelation. As if he had just told her he liked sugar in his coffee. How ironic, thought Arthur, that the thing he had dreaded saying out loud for so many years elicited so little reaction. "So you asked Merlin to keep your affair a secret?" she replied.

"I didn't _ask_," Arthur snapped. "I practically forced him! Merlin worked until he could barely stand because of me. He embarrassed himself in a room full of people, all because I didn't have the balls to fess up to Gwen and tell her months ago that I'm in love with-" Arthur stopped, realizing with horror that the moisture dripping down his cheeks wasn't sweat, but tears.

_He never cried. _

_Never._

"This is my fault, all of it," he whispered, burying his head in his hands. But the tears kept coming, wracking him to his core. "I've fucked up both their lives. I doubt either of them will speak to me after this-"

Carol moved slowly out from her desk. "Arthur," she said, in a soft voice. "Would you like a glass of water?"

He nodded when words failed him.

Her exit gave him a chance to pull himself back together. To steal a tissue from a box on her desk, blow his nose and gather up his erratic emotions. When she returned with the plastic cup he had regained enough courage to meet her eyes. He downed the water all in one gulp.

"I can tell you're very upset about what's happened," Carol continued. "But do you have any proof to corroborate your story?"

"Merlin has the video Nimue took," he replied, clearing his sniffling. "I mean, she doesn't say anything on it, but, she took it-"

"I'm sorry Arthur, but I doubt that video of that nature would hold on it's own. Is there anything else? A written letter by Ms. Evienne, or an email?"

He cursed under his breath. The bitch had been right that night at the bar. What did he have on Nimue but his word over hers? Would all of this come down to who was a better storyteller? He swallowed his disappointment until it left a hard pit in his stomach. "So," he asked wearily. "What happens now?"

"All three of you will be put on a weeklong suspension. During that time, a board will review your statements, as well as the footage of your vandalism durring the critique. After a week's time, there should be a decision with regards to your continued enrollment at CCA."

"Footage?"

"Yes, from the school's security cameras."

"I thought the cameras in the classrooms were for show. They actually _work_?" Arthur shouted.

"They're operational." She said mildly.

"Do they record audio, or just video?"

"Both."

"And how long are the recordings stored?"

"That's not my department," the counselor replied, her over-plucked eyebrows crinkling in thought. "If memory serves, I believe the footage is stored for a period of three months. A safety measure; so the school has a database to access in case of a theft or crime report. After the allotted time it's cleared."

Arthur found the pleasure of this revelation impossible to contain. He grinned ear-to-ear, feeling more like his old self as he asked, "Do you have a piece of paper?"

She passed him her notepad, and he wracked his brain. He would never forget the first date. The day he and Merlin consummated their relationship in the car. The others were a bit fuzzy but the stalker in him knew Merlin's schedule well enough to bluff it.

"I've written down everything I can think of," Arthur said, eagerly returning the notepad. "For the first date, check the footage from the cameras at back of the school. Merlin said Nimue took him out for a smoke when she first threatened him with blackmail; I'll bet my life she wouldn't have done that at the front of the school. For the rest of the dates, check the fashion studio from around eight to midnight. You'll see Merlin sewing the exact garment Nimue presented as hers during critique, not to mention several other projects of hers the teachers should be able to identify."

Mrs. Lynne looked at the black ink scribbles; Arthur watching as deeper thoughts clouded her calm exterior. "All right," she sighed. "I'll speak with security. If what you say is true and video exists to corroborates your story, I'll need to call you into my office again."

"Sure." Arthur smiled.

"And Arthur," she said, putting sharp emphasis on his name. "I just want you to understand that if you are telling the truth, you may need to give a statement, to the dean of the school and the chair of the fashion department. Are you willing to do that?"

He looked her straight in the eye and said, "I promised Merlin once that I'd never let anyone hurt him, but it was me who ended up almost ruining his life. I owe him this-and so much more. I'll do whatever you want. I'll swear on a damn bible if you ask me to. I have to make sure that bitch gets what she deserves. I have to fix this for Merlin."

The counselor stood up to shake his hand, then walked to the door, rapping twice on the frosted glass. "Thank you, Arthur, for coming forward. Security will escort you off the premises now."


	40. Chapter 40

Arthur stepped out of the office and checked his phone. He had fourteen voicemails all from the same number, a startling reminder that his evening of trials had only begun. He noticed Mrs. Blaze had abandoned her post at the door, her replacement a brick of a man thumbing at his sparse goatee.

"I'll take you to your classroom to get your stuff," the security guard said to Arthur with the hint of a New York accent. "After that you're to stay off campus until further notice."

Arthur nodded; his gaze finding Merlin slouched in a plastic chair at the reception area. He appeared to be all loose nerve; pearls of perspiration dotted his brow. A frayed copy of People magazine bearing the burden of his anxiety as it twisted in his hands.

Arthur turned to the guard and asked, "Can you give me a minute, to say goodbye to my…" His tongue stuck on the roof of his mouth. What _was_ Merlin exactly-his boyfriend? Though every ounce of Arthur wished that, the idea was presumptuous. His lover? They had certainly had their share of liaisons, but the title sounded like something from a cheap romance novel. He settled with pointing in Merlin's direction, which caused the guard to crack his knuckles in protest.

"It won't take long-" Arthur pleaded.

"You got a minute, kid," the guard shot back. "Don't pull any funny shit."

Arthur practically ran the short distance to Merlin, calling his name. The magazine fell from Merlin's grip, his somber blue eyes searching Arthur's own. Panic fluttered wildly in Arthur's chest. All he'd hoped for the last hour was to see this man, to beg his forgiveness. But now that they were face to face, having someone as perfect as Merlin in his life felt like the last thing he deserved.

_But it was exactly what he desired._

"I've told the counselor everything," Arthur said, briefly explaining to Merlin his hour in Mrs. Lynn's office. "You don't need to worry anymore about keeping things hidden. When it's your turn to go into the counseling office, I want you to blame all of this on me."

Merlin frowned.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Arthur pressed. "The school will have to let you off the hook for doing Nimue's work once they review the security tapes—"

The space between their bodies vanished as Merlin stood, squeezing Arthur into a hug. The slim body felt like silk in his arms. Arthur wanted to fall into the embrace, to cherish it, but there was chasteness in the intimacy that terrified him. A reservation to Merlin's affection he'd never encountered before.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin whispered warmly into Arthur's left ear.

Arthur licked his lips and said, "I understand. I ruined your coursework, your…er...reputation—"

"That's not what I meant," Merlin replied. "Last night I was upset, but it's not like I never wanted to see you again. I just needed space. If I had any idea you'd go and pull a stunt like that—" He closed his eyes, took a full breath and said, "Nimue sent the video Arthur. She put it on Facebook and everything. My phone's been slammed with texts, there's no way we can deny hooking up now. Everyone will know—"

_Ah_, thought Arthur with a pang of understanding. _So that explains the fourteen voicemails from Gwen. _But what he said out loud was, "That's fine. I expected as much."

"Arthur, I _know _what it feels like to be publicly outed. I swear I never, _ever_, wanted anything like that to happen to you-"

"So everyone knows I'm gay, who gives a fuck?" Arthur snorted. "What was I supposed to do, watch Nimue verbally spit in your face? Sit back and watch the man I love ruin his grades-"

Merlin's eyelashes fluttered. "_Love?_" He interjected.

"I've loved you," Arthur said slowly. "Since the moment you first spoke to me at the airport. I realize now that can survive breaking up with Gwen. I can survive being kicked out of school, hell, I can even deal with my father disowning me if it comes to that. But I don't want to lose you Merlin, not like this. Not ever if I can help it—"

The security guard cleared his throat, motioning to the exit with an authoritative wave.

"I guess that's my cue," Arthur said bleakly. "I'm going to find Gwen, explain everything in person as gently as I can. Try my best to convince her to take this out on me and leave you out of it. I'll understand Merlin, if you don't want to see me anymore after all this. I just had to tell you how I feel—"

Black bangs washed against Arthur's face as Merlin touched their foreheads together. Arthur could feel his emotion's peaking. Threatening to spill over, just as they had moments ago in the counseling office. He bit his lip. Pulled away to give Merlin a manly pat on the shoulder, then found security guard. Falling in line with the uniformed man's stride.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted behind them, loud enough for the receptionist to peer over her coffee mug. "I...I... love you too," He blushed, adding as an afterthought, "Even though you can be an impulsive prick—"

Arthur let out a surprised chuckle. "I'll wait for you at the BART station." He smiled back.


	41. Chapter 41

He'd walked to Dolores Park in the past, but never with such tension. Arthur knew his girlfriend's request to meet at the grassy oasis a skip from the Castro spoke volumes. It was a popular hangout for people their age, a place to make-out and unwind after classes. They'd never actually been to the park as a couple; though Arthur had eaten Mediterranean take out on the grass with Gwaine once, when the weather was still inviting.

Tonight it was anything but.

Gwen was sitting alone under a palm tree, as if its jagged leaves could provide shelter from the thick San Franciscan fog. He buttoned up his coat; zigzagging through a group of hipsters boozing on the lawn. One of them clicked a lighter to life; the smell of clove cigarettes following Arthur up the slope as he found Gwen. He thudded down next to her, watching as she quickly stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

"This wasn't what I wanted when I suggested we go out tonight." She said dryly.

He nodded, examining her face. Gwen's blank expression betrayed nothing, but the stiffness of her posture made him immediately uneasy. The Gwen he knew, the girl who had in the course of twenty four hours had seen him vomit, tear a dress in half, and jump their male roommate on video. Well, lets just say he'd expected her to rip into him before he'd even made it up the slope.

"I saw what Nimue posted online," She continued, so softly he could scarcely hear her. "This whole afternoon doesn't make any sense. Arthur for heaven's sake you're not crazy, and you're not—" She flushed, looking down at the grass.

His first impulse was to lie, but he quickly dismissed it. "The past few months have been a confusing time in my life, Gwen. But you deserve honesty, and from here on out that's what I'm going to give you."

She curled her legs up against her chest, cocked her head to the side and said. "I suppose this is the part where you tell me you're sorry. That you were curious, or drunk…that you fucked up and learned your lesson for good?"

"I can't promise that. I'd be lying."

Her mouth dropped.

"I seduced Merlin that night at the gallery. I had no idea Nimue was there or that she'd taped us. She's been using the video you saw to blackmail Merlin into doing her coursework. He wanted to tell you Gwen, to confess what we'd done, It was me who pressured him to keep the whole thing quiet and do what she wanted. I was afraid, selfish. I didn't want you finding out, or my family. But I didn't want to stop seeing Merlin either."

"So all the stupid fights between you two at home, the constant nitpicking. What the hell was that, _flirting_?"

"Yes." Arthur swallowed.

"Arthur how long have you known that you're—"

"I think I've always suspected, to a degree. I used to believe If if I just ignored it I'd be fine, and that worked well for a time, but then I came here. I met Merlin and-"

She grabbed her schoolbag and flung it at him. The canvas bag hurtled over his head, crashing into a palm tree and showering papers down the hillside where the hipsters were camped. "And when the hell _were _you planning to mention that to me Arthur?" She cried, ignoring the group of guys now heckling them from bellow. "Me, you know, your _girlfriend_!"

"I felt like you were the last person I could tell—"

"I should have been the first! I've given you three years of my life, Arthur! _Three years_! What were those, more of your lies? A game of pretend?"

"Of course not," Arthur whispered, rubbing the sweat off his neck. "I care for you, Guinevere. I always have and I always will. I asked you to be my girlfriend those years back because of who you are, an amazing woman. I've just come to the understand recently that the love I feel for you is a different kind of love then what you deserve—"

"How do you expect me to deal with this? For fucks sake I don't even want to look at you right now—"

"There's no excuse for how I behaved, and I'm not trying to make one. It was wrong of me to cheat on you Gwen. I could have acted honestly and respectfully towards you and I didn't. I _majorly_ fucked up. You didn't deserve this, and I wish I had handled things better. But please try and understand, it's not like this has been an easy thing for me to face. To admit to myself, let alone another person—"

"I can't believe you want sympathy when you've lied, not to mention humiliated me in front of my entire class! Tonight I've not only lost my boyfriend Arthur, but one of my best friends!"

A strand of hair fell limp across her tear stained cheek. She looked so miserable, so alone, that he wanted to do something. To wrap his arms around her in comfort as he had so many times in the past. But the notion seemed beyond inappropriate. Not when he was the very source of her pain.

He felt wretched.

"Gwen—"

"Stop it. Were done here."

"Guinevere—"

"Arthur Pendragon," she snapped, staring straight into his very being. "If you have any ounce of respect left for me you'll leave, before I have to get up and _make _you."

There was little He could do but get off the grass. He tried to catch her eye before he left, to apologize again, but she'd deafened to his very existence. He stumbled down the slope half in tears, jumping as something caught his pant leg. When Arthur realized not only was it a human pawing at him, but one of the drunken hecklers he'd heard earlier, he felt ready to deck the guy in his bearded face.

"I come in peace," the hipster said, holding up a hand in surrender. He dug his free arm into a red cooler, popped the top of a chilled Pabst Blue Ribbon then cozied it in a brown paper bag. "Heavy shit going on up there with your girl. Regular soap opera. We all thought you could use one of these-" he said, offering Arthur the drink.

Arthur froze, lowering his eyebrows.

"It's not roofied, promise." The guy smiled back.

Arthur didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. So he accepted the beer, took a swig that finished half the can and said thank you.

* * *

Lancelot was seated on the leather couches near the library, his MacBook hot as a heating pad against his legs. A sleeping student tossed and turned on his right, disturbed by the clicking keyboard. Lance let his fingers hang in mid air, wondering if it would be better to work in the library.

He was in the middle of a mock client consultation, the premise of the assignment being the refurbishing of an old brick warehouse. Preoccupied that week, he'd put the work off and now had the sour job of playing catch-up on his final. Which was why when his phone rang in his back pocket, he debated answering at all. That was, until an electronic rendition of 'Greensleeves' played.

He pounced on the answer button.

"Gwen?" He said, fighting to contain the excitement in his voice. "Hey, what's up?"

Silence fed from the speakers.

"Gwen?"

"Thank God you picked up," she said, adding quickly. "Of course you'd pick up."

The waver in her voice made his skin prickle. Had she been crying?

"What's wrong?" Lance whispered into the receiver. "Are you okay?"

"Somethings happened Lance, with Arthur. I could really use a ride home-"


	42. Chapter 42

Merlin adjusted the scarf at his throat; mouthing a cigarette as Arthur tucked beside him at the 16th Street and Mission train station entrance. Without so much as "hello", Arthur stole the cigarette from his lips, crushing the half spent shaft against a moldy brick wall.

The destruction of a perfectly good cigarette normally made Merlin livid. But the feral look in Arthur's red eyes, and the slag of his posture told Merlin now was not the time to push it. "Were you able to talk to Gwen?" he asked, hiding his pack of American Spirits in case Arthur went for those next.

"You first," Arthur replied. "What did the counselor say? What's the verdict?"

"Week-long suspension, same as you."

"_Bullshit," _he cursed under his breath.

"And Guinevere, how is she, Arthur? How is she really?"

Arthur's mouth fell. He rubbed his neck and said softly, "Let's just say there's no way either of us are going back to the apartment tonight."

"I should have come with you," Merlin stuttered. "Fuck. I should call her now and—"

"What good would that do? It's done, Merlin. Give Gwen a break to cool off, will you? It was my job to tell her. She was _my _girlfriend—"

"And _my_ friend-"

"She's hardly in the mood to talk to either of us now and can you blame her?" Arthur interjected. "Besides, we need to figure out where we're going to stay tonight. I'd rent a hotel but Nimue drained my cash this month—"

"I know a place we can stay," Merlin said gently. "Assuming you have at least two dollars and fifty cents left in your wallet?"

The bus wedged into a throng of commuter traffic on Highway 101, Arthur looking out the window at a view of the bay he rarely glimpsed. He'd never been to Marin County, where Merlin's parents lived; before now he'd never had a reason. It was strange to imagine meeting the Emrys family, let alone begging to stay with them.

Night had robbed the Golden Gate Bridge of its orange glow, but there was still a grace to the structure. The effortless way its cables spanned the dark lapping water. Eventually the metal supports of the bridge faded, melting into the grassy Marin headlands and the sensual curves of Mount Tamalpais. Arthur remembered Merlin saying in passing that the mountain was known locally as "The Sleeping Lady". Arthur considered its sloping ridges; but the only sleeper he could spot was a cherubic Merlin, snoring peacefully in his seat. He draped his coat over Merlin, tucking the sides tight and then cuddling into the warmth of his body. He knew he should sleep too, but his mind was restless; the adrenaline of the day coursing electric through his veins.

The bus ride was two hours long. When they arrived at their stop, Arthur hauled Merlin's school bags onto the curb. "So, this is your home town?" he asked, slightly winded.

"Mm hmm," Merlin replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "My first job was over there—" he said, pointing to a green grocery store called 'Good Earth'. "I was a bag boy."

Arthur wondered quietly how town hadn't died with the hippie movement of the 60's. It was isolated and green, with a one block main street of buildings salvaged from pioneer times. Half of the shops looked like dive bars, the others boutiques selling crystals, hemp clothing, and the kinds of herbal vitamins Merlin's kitchen drawer at home was stuffed full of.

They walked down the crumbling sidewalk, enjoying starlight in place of streetlamps. The two of them on an empty street, running from their old lives like outlaws. It reminded Arthur of his arrival in California. He'd been running away then too, though he hadn't yet known it. Away from a life that and chafed as badly as ill-fitting jacket. And once again Merlin was at his side, acting as guide to destinations and feelings still unexplored.

"I'm sorry to be putting your family in this position." Arthur said with an apologetic groan.

"They won't mind," Merlin replied, the few hours of sleep on the bus obviously agreeing with him. "Besides, let's look at the positives. Nimue's lost her leverage on us. I'm sure even she knows it's only a matter of time before the truth blows up in her face. And a week-long suspension means I have a week's worth of uninterrupted sewing time. The security guard was nice enough to let me get my supplies from the studio. I may even be able to finish my Art's Of Fashion competition piece, if you'll keep playing model."

"I'll strip for you anytime, as if you'd have to ask," Arthur responded, pleased at the way Merlin blinked when he mentioned undressing. "And you forgot another positive, Merlin."

"Hmm… what's that?"

Arthur's heart pounded as he said, "I'm single now."

"I'm not sure 'single' is the right word," Merlin replied softly.

"Yours then?"

Merlin's gaze looked lost, until Arthur caught up his hand, lacing their fingers together. "How about each other's?" Merlin whispered back, blushing uncontrollably.

"Sure." Arthur grinned, feeling their steps form a uniform rhythm.

It didn't take long to get to their destination from the downtown. Dead leaves crackled underfoot as they walked through a huge front yard, barren crab apple trees shielding its two-story house. It was shingled in wood, the roof sprouting grass like an accidental hobbit house. The front windows were a murky brown Coke bottle glass, a redwood front door greeting Arthur; twice as tall as any person he'd ever met. Merlin pulled the head of a dragon doorknocker with his free hand, letting it fall where it willed.

A woman in loose floral prints answered, her brown braid trailing past her waist. "Merlin!" she chirped, words as warm as her smile.

"Hi Mom," Merlin replied sheepishly. "I'm sorry I didn't call first—"

The woman pulled Merlin into her arms, enveloping him with a tenderness that made Arthur's heart ache just a little.

"Is everything all right?"

"Can we talk more inside?" Merlin replied. "It's pretty cold out and—" He looked behind him, smiling beautifully. "Mom, this is Arthur. Arthur, this is my Mom, Hunith."

Arthur extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs.—"

Hunith's arms were around Arthur before he could blink, hugging him as tightly as she had Merlin. Arthur normally loathed being hugged by strangers. Maybe it was her gentleness, or the faint way she resembled her son, but he didn't struggle out of the affection. "Hello Arthur. Merlin's told me all about you, good to finally put a face to the name." She said, ushering them inside.

* * *

The Emrys home looked like a fantasy novel come alive. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, blue glass bottles illuminating the windowsill. It was a warm, dry home, smelling of baked goods and the bay trees that swayed just outside its picture windows. Hunith lead Arthur and Merlin into the kitchen, seating them at a round table while placing a loaf of bread at its center.

"Fresh banana bread, " she announced. "Egg and dairy free of course. Arthur, would you care for some?"

"No thank you," Arthur replied. "I'm fine."

Merlin however obliged, cutting a hefty hunk of bread and smearing a substance on it that Arthur was certain, by both texture and color, wasn't real butter. He didn't bother with chewing. The meal was gone from his plate in three swallows, Arthur realizing that this was the first time poor Merlin had eaten in hours.

"Be back in a minute," Merlin said, wiping crumbs off his chin. "I'm going to run upstairs and get cleaned up."

Arthur looked bewildered.

"Really, I won't be long," He soothed. "Just need a change of clothes, can't stand being in these dirty things anymore."

Arthur couldn't protest, not with Merlin's mother in earshot. He watched the lanky man bound up a twisting staircase, praying Merlin would take less time getting dressed at his parent's house then he did back home at their apartment. With her son out of the room, Hunith was back in mother hen mode. Immediately placing a steaming cup into Arthur's hands.

"Chamomile tea, dear," she smiled. "You can never go wrong with chamomile."

"Not if he's on Coumadin, Hunith—" A white haired man had entered the dining room, one eyebrow raised high behind his wire-framed glasses. "You're not on any blood thinners, are you boy?"

Arthur blinked. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't believe we've-"

"Gaius," the older gentleman replied, shaking Arthur's hand before settling into a chair at the table. "I'm Merlin's father. Stepfather, if we're to be technical, but I did raise him from boyhood. If that doesn't make him my son by all but blood, I don't' know what would."

"Pleased to meet you, sir."

"Fine manners," Giaus replied with a nod, half to Hunith, half to Arthur. "And the hint of a Midwestern pronunciation, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Indiana," Arthur said, pleased that despite Merlin's past nagging that his manners were boorish; he knew how to make an impression when it mattered.

"Indianapolis?"

"Northern, South Bend."

Gaius scratched his chin. "I haven't had the pleasure of visiting South Bend, but I have done work in Indiana with Riley Children's Hospital back in my pediatric days."

"You're a physician?"

"Thankfully a retired one. My primary focus now is holistic medicine and its applications."

Arthur thought again of Merlin's drawer at their Oakland kitchen, all of the supplements he couldn't name. This explained a lot. Never had he encountered such crunchy granola people. If they weren't so nice he would have found the situation almost comical. He watched Merlin's stepfather leave the table again, shuffling through a cluttered desk and pulling a carved wooden pipe from under a pile of papers. Arthur thought nothing of the pipe—at first. Plenty of people in his hometown smoked tobacco the old fashioned way. It wasn't until he got a good sniff of the smoke wafting from it that his face contorted.

"I hope you don't mind?" Gaius said, noting Arthur's expression as he re-claimed his spot at the rounded table. "I find a bit of cannabis helps stir my appetite these days. And its anti-inflammatory effects do wonders for arthritis."

Arthur's own eyebrow shot up. "Oh…."

"Ah, how rude of me," Giaus replied, "If you'd like some it would be my pleasure to offer. Or, if you're averse to smoking, I've a wonderful concoction of rattlesnake venom."

Arthur looked over at Hunith, who was either blissfully unaware of the offer or simply uncaring. "I'm not familiar…." He swallowed.

"Marijuana wine, essentially. It's a pleasant high, with less bite than the name would suggest—"

Awkward footsteps interrupted the conversation, and Arthur couldn't have been gladder to hear them. Merlin was jacket-less now, his clothes changed and his spirits equally fresh.

"Merlin, my boy," Gaius chimed, blowing circles from his pipe as Merlin bounced over, giving his stepfather a warm hug. "Your mother and I do enjoy your unexpected visits. Would you like to do me the honor of explaining why you've come all the way here so late at night?"

"Problems at school," Merlin said casually. "But I'd rather not talk about it now, it's nothing to worry about. Arthur and I need a place to stay, is it all right with you and mom if we stay in my old room? Just until things get cleared up. Shouldn't be more then a week, and I can help with chores while I'm here. Do the compost and stuff."

Arthur was shocked. If this had been _his_ family, him telling his father that he had issues at school, the conversation would have been anything but civil. But Merlin's parents listened quietly. Their faces wrinkled with concern rather than rage.

"Well," Hunith sighed, squeezing her son's hand. "I suppose you both can stay as long as you need to; your room's how you left it. I'll wrestle up a sleeping bag and a clean pillow for Arthur."

"Please, don't go to the trouble," Merlin said, cutting a second helping of bread.

"It's December sweetie," she replied. "Your friend is going to freeze on the oak floor if we don't get some covers on him—"

"Arthur's sleeping in my bed, Mom."

Chamomile burned into Arthur's sinuses. He managed to choke the liquid back with an ungraceful cough and a few quick back pats from Merlin.

"In that case," Hunith said, recognition lighting her face as she studied the blushing men. "I'll get Arthur an extra pillow."


	43. Chapter 43

Arthur's sleep was dreamless. A thick molasses-like sleep that left him heavy-limbed when he awoke. He blinked his eyes open, gazing at a canopy of glow in the dark star stickers on redwood roof beams. He'd forgotten where he was until he felt his arms woven around Merlin's waist; the lanky man spooned loosely against him. It seemed neither of them had moved an inch since falling asleep in Merlin's twin bed the night before.

Merlin's childhood room was on the second floor of the Emrys house; up a staircase so crooked you could roll marbles off it. It was doll-sized, smaller than his room at their apartment. The bed Arthur awoke in just big enough for two adults, if they lay side by side like packed sardines. Arthur pulled the quilt over Merlin's bare shoulders, marveling at his flawless skin, his innocent face and far from innocent mouth.

It fascinated Arthur to be in Merlin's private space, to see his belongings carefully laid out. There were crudely illustrated concert posters of band's Arthur had never heard of, photos of people he'd never met. Intimate details of Merlin's past on full display. However, there was an oddity about the room that irked him. The far window curtain-less; it was a vulnerable thing to wake up to in just your underwear. Thankfully, the window stared into the empty woods behind the house and nothing else.

Arthur closed his eyes, tried to go back to sleep. But without curtains, the early morning sunlight beat harsher than an alarm clock, and it didn't help that Merlin's very presence was a tease to his libido. The smell of his organic body wash, the feel of his toned arms on Arthur skin, and the gentle way Merlin breathed as he held him. Since sleeping in was impossible, for him at least, Arthur leaned up on a pillow to watch Merlin sleep. The rational part of his mind told him he was being creepy. At the very least it was borderline pathetic, but he didn't care.

When Merlin finally woke, Arthur couldn't contain his smile. "I want every day to be like this," Arthur whispered to him.

Merlin yawned, taking in the morning and remembering the long night. "Oh," he mumbled, rubbing his dewy eyes. "You mean the—"

"Well yes," Arthur said, the smile melting into his eyes. "But what I meant is you and me. Like this. Doing cliché couple things—"

"Like having sex in a real bed for a change?" Merlin grinned back.

Arthur nodded, and took a satisfying stretch that made his back crack. If last night was as good as he'd remembered, they'd both have trouble walking straight today. He surveyed the room again. Looked at a bookshelf that doubled as a bed stand and pulled out a paperback absentmindedly. "You read _vampire _books Merlin? You're_ sure_ you're not a girl?"

"That's Anne Rice you clot," Merlin replied, as if the author's name was answer in itself. He pulled off the quilt, walking slowly towards a small closet in only his tighty whities.

"And this one," Arthur said, enjoying the few as he slipped another book from the shelf, scrutinizing its cheesy cover illustration. "_The Crystal Caves_? I never realized what a dork you are."

Merlin stuck out his tongue, found a pair pajama pants and pulled them up over his hips. "You should try reading instead of watching TV. I can teach you, if you don't know how."

Arthur ignored the insult and got out of bed too, plucking his own pants off the floor. When he was somewhat dressed, he moved his attention to a green sewing machine on a desk in the corner. It looked straight out of a sixty's home magazine, which made him wonder if the thing even worked. "What's this?" he asked, fiddling with a knob.

"Would you stop messing with my stuff?" Merlin chuckled. "The sewing machine is mom's. I did a lot of sewing on it back in high school, so she let me keep it in my room. Singer doesn't make them like that anymore, with the all-metal parts. It rarely breaks down, wish I could find another like it for my place."

"So you were into sewing, even before college?"

He pulled on a long sleeve shirt, finishing the look with his signature scarf. "Mom sewed my clothes when I was younger, to save money. She taught me how to sew in elementary school, mending holes in socks, pants, that sort of thing—" Then he laughed, a melancholy laugh that made Arthur's legs go boneless and his heartbeat a little louder. "I guess it grew on me."

He tried to imagine how Merlin looked in elementary school; those reflective eyes on the impish face of a child, one with patched pants no less. He hadn't really considered Merlin's financial situation before. He didn't seem bad off, but his parent's house, with its sprouting grassy roof and strange floors, didn't scream upper class either. He knew Merlin worked hard at his part-time job at the coffee shop to pay his rent. More recently, he'd learned from Gwen that Merlin attended CCA through a mix of scholarships and personal student loans, but he hadn't thought much of it at the time. It couldn't have been easy for Merlin, paying his own way in life.

Merlin motioned Arthur closer, combing through the closet again. "Let's see if I can find you a clean shirt," he said, pulling out a white tee with a skull on it and plastering it against Arthur's bare chest. "This is the biggest I have, but your shoulders are so broad—"

"Stop fussing," Arthur replied, taking the shirt from Merlin's outstretched hands and cramming it over his head. It was a tight fit, snug under the armpits, but it would do. "Hey Merlin, I was wondering, would you ever consider moving in together?"

Merlin made a puzzled face. "Um…we already live together."

"I meant on our own," Arthur elaborated. "We could get out of Oakland; find an apartment in San Fran. How about the Castro, would you like that? Isn't that where all the gay's live? We could even get a cat if you'd like." He cupped Merlin's chin, then mumbled, "Although you'll probably insist on naming it something stupid, like _Tom_—"

"Castro's really expensive," Merlin groaned. "And how do you know what I'd name a cat?!"

"Do you like the idea or not?"

He stared at Arthur for a moment; his eyes brimming with an emotion that was difficult to read. "Yes," he whispered teasingly into Arthur's parted lips. "I do."

"Good," Arthur beamed. He stole a kiss, letting his mouth trail across the thin morning stubble on Merlin's chin. "Mmm. scratchy," he said in a husky voice. "It's different, love, I like it."

"Don't get used to it," Merlin replied, kissing Arthur so deeply that he could feel his heart stick in his throat. "I'm shaving after breakfast."


	44. Chapter 44

Despite coping with a vegan crash diet that had his stomach screaming for a blood and steak, Arthur found his stay at the Emrys house pleasant. Merlin's parents were genuine and kind to a fault, more than willing to spread this affection onto Arthur, accepting him into the house as one of their own. Merlin's mother even remarked at dinner how handsome the pair looked together, eliciting a delicious blush from Merlin. Arthur had only spent four days with the Emrys, but he could already tell that with parents like Giaus and Hunith, Merlin was truly the richer of the two of them.

He tried his best to be useful and gracious to his hosts. Helping Merlin's mother carry her groceries home from the local market, doing yard work for his step father and volunteering to drive Merlin to work in the family's sky blue VW bus (even though it made him feel like a bad Scooby-Doo character, the annoying blond one. He imagined stealing Merlin's scarf one day to complete the look).

At night he kept his word to Merlin, standing for fittings of the competition piece, which was progressing nicely.

It was on his fifth day in Marin that the calls came, two of them on the same day. The first call had Arthur holding his cell away from his ear, confused by the shrieking at the other end.

"You selfish pig!" a voice screamed in his ear.

"Always a pleasure, Morgan," Arthur replied cheerily.

"I can't believe you," the female voice continued. "Is that all you do in college, Arthur? Think with your _dick_?"

He imagined Morgan standing in a crowded mall, screaming "dick" at the top of her lungs into her cell as passersby scowled. It would be just like her.

"I don't follow. You'll have to be more specific, sis," he said, egging her on.

"I heard what you did," Morgan snapped back. "How could you cheat on Gwen? After all you two have been through, you toss her aside for some—"

Arthur held his breath_._

_Shit. It was finally catching up to him._

"For some California skank!"

"Huh?" Arthur sputtered.

"You think Gwen wouldn't tell me what you did to her? How long do you think you could hide that you were cheating on one of my best friends?" Morgan replied. "What's the girl look like, Arthur? Let me guess, some trashy blond with the big tits?"

He let Morgan roll out the insults, ignoring her nagging. He could have laughed out loud. So, he had been right, Gwen did tell Morgan that he'd cheated on her. Heck if Morgan knew, the gossip had probably spread back to all their mutual friends in Indiana by now. But she'd told Morgan he'd cheated on her with a _woman_.

It was an unbelievable mercy on Gwen's part. By a small miracle all of CCA knew the gossip, but Morgan hadn't seen the video of him and Merlin making out. Gwen must have deleted it immediately from her Facebook. Blocked Nimue minutes after she'd posted it. He was _safe_. His father didn't know. _Wouldn't_ know.

He owed Gwen, big-time. He could barely believe it, and neither could Merlin when he told him.

The second call came later in the evening, a composed female voice addressing him as "Mr. Pendragon". It could only be one person.

"I said before, call me Arthur," Arthur replied, happy to hear from the school counselor.

There was a pause on the line followed by a hurried, "Arthur, we reviewed the security tapes. Are you and Mr. Emrys available Thursday to meet with the dean and give your statements?"

Arthur swallowed. "Well, I don't see why—"

"The school is reversing your suspensions," Mrs. Lynne interrupted, her voice raising an octave higher. "Winter break starts Monday, Arthur, the sooner we can sort this out for you and Mr. Emrys, the better."

* * *

The dean of the California College of The Arts was a thin man with chestnut hair and overly expressive eyes. Arthur had never met him in person, but he'd seen his picture in a PowerPoint presentation during orientation week. He was a man who looked professional in photos, but in real life Arthur thought he resembled a doe stuffed into a business suit. A friendly, soft faced kind of guy who'd listen patiently to your boring stories, maybe help you move if you had no one else to do it.

He nodded at Arthur and Merlin as they explained their side of the situation. Whispering to Mrs. Lynne when either man paused to catch a breath. He asked them ten times if they were comfortable. Offered them coffee and vanilla biscotti, assuring them that CCA had a "No Hate" policy, and that the "situation" would be remedied.

Miss Evienne would be permanently expelled from the school. The dean went as far to suggest Arthur and Merlin file legal actions against her with the local police department.

They talked it over in private, but Merlin wouldn't hear any of it. He was loath to get into any lengthy legal battle, preferring to move on with his life. Eventually he and Arthur agreed that with Nimue expelled, the best thing they could do was put the past behind them.

The suspensions, as Mrs. Lynne promised, were now reversed, their records clean. But for Arthur, this came with certain conditions. Because of what the dean deemed a "violent outburst" on his part during the open critique, he had to attend monthly counseling sessions with Mrs. Lynne, which he reluctantly agreed to. And though they were no longer technically suspended, it was the last day of finals week at CCA, and of classes. With the school's month long winter break starting on Monday; it was important that they tie up loose academic ends with their teachers before the start of the new semester.

Arthur was the luckier of the two; he only had one final to make up, the stupid iPhone project with Gwaine. Merlin, however, had several weeks' worth of assignments to fix thanks to Nimue, so he stayed behind after in the counselor's office, talking to Barbara about how to repair his failed final and re-grade his last few projects.

It was outside of the school while waiting for Merlin that Arthur spotted the bitch herself, strutting through the main entrance like she owned the place. Nimue was impossible to miss, standing out like a spot of mustard on a white shirt. Everything about her screamed for attention. From her glossy sling back heels to her tight fitting black tank, she was dressed to stun. She must have received a call from Mrs. Lynne too. Her confident posture telling Arthur know she had no idea the true nature of her meeting today with the dean.

He ducked behind the VW, but it was no use. She'd already spotted him, smirking and waving a sick goodbye in his direction.

"You think I'm the one who's leaving?" Arthur called from across the parking lot. "Big Brother is everywhere, Nimue, and he knows what a conniving rat you've been."

She spit on the sidewalk before grabbing the door handle, but Arthur didn't let up. He pointed towards the roof of the school and said, "Ever considered these cameras? It's amazing; they have them everywhere in this school, even in the classrooms—"

She hesitated at the door, pouting.

His trick had worked.

"What the hell are you going on about—" she snapped.

"The counselor told me some fascinating details about them earlier this week. How security holds everything these cameras record, months before the tapes are cleared. Why don't you think back in that creepy little head of yours, clear out the cobwebs and black widows and tell me where Merlin was working on all your school assignments?"

She spun round, crossed her arms across her ample chest and shouted, "So fucking what? I already told the counselor your boyfriend sold his work out for money. You think you can convince those idiots that Merlin's innocent by showing footage of the fag sewing?"

Arthur's skin bristled. He stomped across the street and stood in front of Nimue, holding the door closed with his hands. "Where were you when you slapped blackmail on him, huh? Do you even remember what you said, word for word? You DO know those cameras record audio AND video, right?"

Nimue blanched.

"Now, the way I see it you have two choices. You can turn around and drop out of school now. Or, you wait for the dean to kick you out as soon as you enter the counseling office. I don't give a fuck which you choose."

"You can't do this—" she hissed up at him.

Arthur merely shrugged. "This is my game now, my rules. The thing you should have realized before you decided to fuck with Merlin is that I'm a Pendragon. I _always _play to _win_, and I don't lose, _ever_."

He savored the last word like a dessert, and then opened the door wide for her. To his surprise, Nimue scurried inside like a frightened.

As she stumbled into the school, tripping over her four-inch heels, Arthur finally saw Nimue for what she really was. An opportunist, all bark and no bite. A scared, selfish little girl, who'd dug herself too deep and was finally realizing the grave consequences of her actions.

Without his fear, she was nothing.

The revelation made him grin.


	45. Chapter 45

Merlin pulled a small recyclable cup from the top of a tilted tower. He shook his wrist, wrested the used coffee grounds from the espresso machine and tapped them into the metal trash bin. With a smooth pour he added fresh espresso to the cup, topping it with a layer of frothy foam as Freya punched the total in the register with bored precision.

"Enjoy," Merlin smiled at the customer.

The college aged girl on the other side of the counter giggled, brushing Merlin's hand briefly as he passed her the drink. She stuffed a few bills in the tip jar then left, glancing over her shoulder a second time at Merlin before she reached the door.

"Careful," Freya whispered to Merlin. "You don't want that new boyfriend of yours getting jealous."

"What?" Merlin replied, wiping a spill of milk off the counter

She pinched his cheek, chuckling. "Oh honey, you really are clueless." Then went about adding more cups to the towers. The bells at the front door sang again. "Customer at twelve o'clock," Freya called.

Merlin walked to the register, looking at the man in the cream khaki pants who'd just entered.

"It's been a while, Mer. Do you have a moment?" Lancelot asked.

Merlin stared at his friend. He was unsure what to make of his unannounced visit, and the way Lance tapped his foot nervously on the tile floor.

"Take your break, I don't mind," Freya said, moving from the stocking of coffee cups to the filling of plastic creamers.

She'd seen enough of Lance at the cafe not to think the visit as anything but ordinary.

Merlin pulled off his apron and hung it behind the counter. "Let's go out back," he said, guiding Lance past the cleaning supplies. As soon as they were outside, he lifted up a coffee tin near the door, pulling out a pack of cigarettes hidden under its disintegrating lip.

"Still haven't quit?" Lance asked, zipping up the front of his sports jacket to keep out the chill.

Merlin rolled up his long sleeve shirt, revealing a nicotine patch stuck on his pale bicep.

"Then what's with the pack?"

"These are emergencies," Merlin replied, pleased that he'd had the foresight to stash them there.

He pulled out his lighter, shielding it from the wind and wincing as the flame tickled his palm. Smoking had always comforted Merlin, ever since he had started at seventeen. He didn't' _want_ to quit. He loved the feeling of it, like having his lungs bundled in a warm blanket. But he'd promised Arthur he would try. Arthur would be mad that he'd cheated. Call him out in the VW when he smelled the smoke on his clothes that night. But the momentary pleasure was worth it.

He watched Lance settle awkwardly into the wall. Whatever it was he needed to say, he didn't look happy about it.

"Gwen told me what happened," He said, looking at the sickly overhead light as he spoke. "I still can't believe it, Merlin. This whole situation is so unlike you. I was right, wasn't I? You and Arthur weren't drinking that night at the White Horse."

Merlin took a few draws of his cigarette, slowly pushing the smoke out his mouth. "If you're thirsty, I'd be happy to go in and make you a cup of coffee. But if you're here to give me a morality lecture, I'd like you to leave. I've had enough of those on my voicemail this week."

"Merlin—"

"I'm sorry I hurt Gwen, I am!" Merlin snapped. He could feel his shoulders tensing. He didn't want to be upset, not with Lance, but he was grating his already raw nerves. He'd heard this speech already from Kat, from half the girls in the fashion department; he didn't need to hear it again from Lance. "I went about things all wrong with Arthur, you think I don't _know_ that? I knew it when it was happening! You think I'm not completely sick with myself? She won't even talk to me anymore, and that's something I have to live with. I don't need another damn lecture about it from you or anyone else!"

"I wasn't planning on yelling at you," Lance replied cautiously. "I just want to talk. Merlin, I was _convinced_ Arthur had tried to hurt you that night at your place. I was _furious_. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to kick his ass? And to think this whole time you guys were—" he shook his head, closed his eyes and said, "Can you blame me for being disappointed? I never trusted Arthur to be faithful to Gwen, not from the moment I met him. But I never expected this from you. So what's going on with you guys exactly? What is this, a… physical thing?"

"At first, yes." Merlin swallowed. "It'd been a long time since Will…"

Lancelot rolled his eyes, making Merlin even more embarrassed. "Do you think it was easy, sharing an apartment with a guy like _that?"_ He groaned, forcing the memory of Arthur wrapped in a towel out of his head. "I didn't want this to happen. I didn't mean to give Gwen's boyfriend the time of day, let alone fall for him!"

Merlin crushed the cigarette under his Converse. He ran his hands through his thick black hair, hiding his face behind them. "There's so much to Arthur, Lance, things you haven't seen. He's blunt, and yes, a bit of an ass, but he's also witty, talented; I don't think he understands the potential he has. If he could just accept who he is and not what his father wants him to be, he could do so much with his life. I want to help him. To be with him. Is that so wrong? "

"I can't forgive you for hurting her," Lance said in a matter of fact voice.

Merlin looked at the ground, unable to meet Lance's eyes again. He'd let two of his best friends down. Lance was virtuous; he'd been in love with Gwen for years, but had never so much as stolen a kiss from her. Merlin had always seen himself on the same level as Lance when it came to morality, well, until he'd gone and hopped into bed with Arthur. He could never repair the damage he'd done to his reputation in this man's eyes, and he knew it.

"I've tried calling Gwen, but she won't pick up her phone. I've tried texts, emails, Facebook, what else can I do?"

Lance shook his head. "She's not ready, Merlin. Not even close. I didn't tell her I was coming to see you, she would have _flipped_."

"So you've been checking in on her? That's really nice of you—"

"I've been um… staying at your place-"

Merlin fumbled, dropping his pack on the ground. "You've been—_What_?"

"In your room, Merlin, not hers!" Lance chirped. Then a note of hope entered his voice, touching his deep brown eyes. "It's nothing like that, but… I think it could be. When she's ready-" He licked his lips. "Maybe I'm a horrible for admitting this, but I'm not mad at you, Merlin. I'm disappointed, but not mad. What you and Arthur did was wrong, but how could I stay angry now that Gwen's single for the first time since I've known her? She wants me in her life now. Needs me—"

"You don't have to say anymore. I understand."

"Looks like were both in deep, huh? Whatever happened to the 'Love's not for me' Merlin?"

"Things change," Merlin replied. "I've changed, or maybe he's changed me. When Arthur first moved in, I couldn't wait for him to be gone, but now the thought of losing him terrifies me." He rubbed the goose bumps off his arms and muttered. "Does that make me selfish?"

"It makes you foolish and in love," Lance replied. "Sometimes one and the same. Unfortunately, I know that feeling. Look Merlin, I'll see what I can do about getting Gwen to talk with you. In the meantime, if you and Arthur need things from the apartment I could probably manage to sneak out a bags of clothes while Gwen's at work, but that's the best I can offer."

"That would be great, I'm totally running out of clean underwear. You could leave it at the café, Freya won't mind."

Lancelot smiled. He patted Merlin on the shoulder and said softly, "You're still my friend, Merlin. Whatever happens, I still care about you and I don't want to choose sides."

"Thanks, Lance," Merlin smiled back, leaning down to put his pack back in its hiding spot. "That means a lot."

"Seriously though, I think you could do way better than Arthur—" Lance added, propping the door open for them both.

"I'll make sure to let him know that," Merlin grinned, swatting away a milky colored moth that had strayed from the overhead light. "Now, how about some coffee?"


	46. Chapter 46

"Ugh, it looks like puke!" Arthur said, holding the lid off of the compost bin.

Merlin was dressed in his stepfather's threadbare jacket, a beanie covering his head. He crunched through piles of colorful oak leaves with a metal bucket in his arms. With a grunt he approached Arthur and the wooden box as deep as a coffin, tossing the moldy contents inside.

"What did you expect, it's compost," Merlin replied, making certain the last scraps of food fell from the buckets bottom. "Now stop complaining; like I told you, it doesn't even smell."

Arthur took a speculative whiff over the wooden bin. Merlin was right. For as bad as the bin looked, it only smelled like damp earth, ammonia and the food they were throwing in. "Wait until your fashion department buddies hear about this," Arthur teased. "The glamorous Merlin Emrys, designer extraordinaire, wearing a beanie and tending to crap in his parent's backyard—"

"It's not _crap_," Merlin snapped. "Were vermicomposting, this is pure organic decomposed matter; it's a great natural garden fertilizer! And if anyone has a right to complain, it's the worms, not you. They're the ones doing all the hard work."

"Decomposing matter, crap, same difference," Arthur replied, capping the bin as quickly as possible. "So what are we going to do with our month long winter break? Besides staring at a bunch of worms."

"Well," Merlin said proudly, "Since my Art's of Fashion competition piece is finished and in the mail, we could search for an apartment. I love mom and dad, but I don't want to stay with them forever-"

"Agreed. I feel bad enough staying this long. I was thinking, a vacation would be nice."

"Let me guess, the tropics?" Merlin grinned. "Beach-side with fruity drinks, that the plan?"

"Imagine somewhere cold."

"Lake Tahoe? Arthur I can't ski and I don't' have much extra money."

"Colder," Arthur replied. "And don't worry about the money. I'll cover your flight ticket, our meals and lodging will be free."

Merlin went to the side of the house, unwound the green garden house and rinsed out the empty bucket. He handed it to Arthur and said slowly, "You're not thinking—"

"Why not? I've met your parents. Wouldn't you like to meet my father? Watch his eyes bug out when I tell him, 'Forget about grand kids, dad, your only son is gay.' " Arthur smirked.

"Arthur, that's ridiculous, you have everything settled! Why stir the pot?"

"Because that's just it, it's NOT settled, Merlin!" He barked, hanging the bucket back on its nail by the door. "So Uther didn't find out about us this time, what happens if Gwen changes her mind? Am I never supposed to update my Facebook relationship status? Or how about when move in together? If Uther comes to visit am I supposed to send you packing to your parent's, strip the photos off the wall and pretend I live _alone_?"

"What about school?"

"You pay for your school, I can figure out how to pay for mine."

Merlin's mouth curled into a grimace. The expression letting Arthur know the pale man was far from convinced.

"I'm not afraid of hard work, I've held jobs before!" Arthur said. "I've already talked the idea over with Mrs. Lynne. I can apply for loans for the new semester, supplement my income with work-study through the college. There's no reason why I can't support myself!"

"I don't know…"

He grabbed Merlin's hand, still chilly and damp from the hose water, kissed his cheek and said, "I'm tried of hiding, Merlin. I want to start my life, for real this time, with you. I'm sick of pretending to be someone I'm not. Can't you understand that? It would mean the world to me to have you there when I tell him."

Merlin sighed. "So, what does a person wear to Indiana in the middle of December?"

* * *

For the three day visit, Merlin had packed four pairs of pants, three pairs of shoes, six shirts, a pair of pajamas and two thick woolen sweaters, all of which he worried about the entire flight. "I know my sweaters are fine, and the shirts," Merlin said, tapping a pen on a finished People crossword puzzle. "But what about my jeans? You don't think they look too—"

Arthur peered up from his second Jack Daniels. He could hear the stewardess's cart rolling up the isle. The inane conversation she was striking with the bald passenger ahead of them. If he was quick enough, he might be able to beg her for a refill. He wasn't even in the same state as his father yet and he was already nervous enough to turn towards liquid courage.

It didn't bode well.

"Yes, your jeans scream gay, Merlin," he answered sarcastically. "Gayer than a unicorn riding a rainbow—"

"I was going to say 'tight'", Merlin replied, sucking the straw of his ginger ale.

"Oh. Well, they're that too," Arthur said, running a hand over Merlin's knuckles. "Anyway, under a sweater and coat, no one is going to see your jeans. You'll _need_ to wear a sweater and a coat there, if not two sweaters…We'll both be fabric marshmallows the entire trip. Honestly, I'm going to miss looking at that ass of yours."

Icy runway conditions held them up in Chicago, delaying the transfer flight. By the time they boarded another, arriving at the South Bend Regional airport, it was just after eight p.m. and five hours behind the expected arrival time.

Arthur grabbed their bags off the only carousel in the empty airport. ""Morgan was going to pick us up, but she couldn't wait. Dinner obligations with friends, she said. We'll catch a cab to my father's."

Merlin nodded, and ruffled through his wallet, "I've got a twenty and…." He squinted, peering at the white world on the other side of the window. As if on cue, a gust of fresh powder whipped against the glass. "Is this weather for real?" He gulped. "It looks like someone just flipped a snow globe upside-down."

"Welcome to Indiana, Love," Arthur said, tenderly wrapping Merlin's neck in his scarf until only a nose and cheekbones peeked over the wooly plaid. "I told you you'd need two sweaters."


	47. Chapter 47

Behind a cover of snow, and a weathered streetlight stood a house—if it could be called that. A more adequate term would have been "mansion", but Merlin had a difficult time applying such a word to real life.

The red brick exterior screamed "old money". Its domineering black windowpanes looking like expensive prison bars, with curtains fully drawn to shield the lives within.

"You're _sure_ this is the right address?" Merlin asked, batting snowflakes from his bangs. "It looks more like a castle."

Arthur took the bags out of the cab, leaning them against an ornate mailbox. "It's as cold as one, but that's where the similarities end."

The cobblestone path ahead glittered with salt crystals; shoveled snow piled three feet high at its sides. Merlin admired the marshmallow appearance of these "mini mountains". With a self-satisfied grin he twirled round, letting his long body fall backward into a pile of the chilled fluff.

"What on earth are you doing?" Arthur snorted

"Making snow angels," Merlin giggled, flailing his limbs up and down. "This is my vacation, I want to have some fun while I'm here. This might be my only chance—"

Arthur bit his lip. "You're an idiot," he said. But the soft tone told Merlin his boyfriend really thought he was anything but. He looked behind his shoulder, making sure the cab had left. When they were alone, he offered Merlin his hand.

_It was unbelievably warm. _

Arthur lifted Merlin to his feet with a swift tug. He dusted the powder off his back, giving a bruising kiss that had Merlin admiring how fresh Arthur's chilled lips felt against his own.

"I want you to be prepared before you walk in there. My family isn't like yours, Merlin. It's better if we keep 'us' quiet—for now."

Merlin shoved his hands back into his coat for warmth, wishing he could hold onto Arthur's for just a little longer. "As far as your father and sister are concerned, I'm a friend from school, nothing else. You don't need to tell them about us until you're ready. _If _you're ready."

"God, do you have any idea how much I love you—" Arthur sighed, tracing the edge of Merlin's frostbitten ear with his mouth.

"Enough to open the door?" Merlin asked through chattering teeth.

Merlin was almost relieved that no one came to greet them when they entered. They unraveled their winter clothes, hung them up in a spotless mudroom, and moved into the grand foyer of the Pendragon home. It was like a set from a movie, a crystal chandelier glistening over a grand staircase and inlaid oak floors.

"Is that _your_ deer?" Merlin asked, pointing to a mounted buck's head perched with more exotic species on the twenty-foot high wall.

Arthur stared proudly at his mounts glassy eyes. "In the flesh. The rest of the trophies are my Father's."

"Creepy," Merlin shuddered. "The whole wall is creepy. A wall of death-"

"They're going to haunt you when you sleep," Arthur said in his best Vincent Price voice, tickling Merlin's ribs.

Merlin slapped him away. "More like you! You're the one that killed the poor—"

Arthur kicked Merlin's shoe, and Merlin took the cue, instantly taking a large step back and smoothing out his dress shirt. A man was descending the staircase. His expression harder than the wooden banister he held on to.

_So, this must be Uther Pendragon._

Merlin's first impression of Arthur's father, was that he was well dressed but not fussy. A no-frills man, with a head crowned in thick silver-grey hair. He seemed fully secure in his middle age, his strides wide and purposeful. But what struck Merlin were his eyes. They were the same blue as Arthur's, but where his son's shown soft and clear, Uther's were dulled under the weight of a deep brow, their color crushed by its shadow.

When Uther reached the ground level, he greeted his son with a curt, "Arthur", and a handshake.

"Father," Arthur replied, with equal enthusiasm.

Merlin was nervous, but he didn't let it show. He offered his hand, his face wearing the mask of calm normally reserved for school critiques and customers at work. "You've a beautiful home, Mr. Pendragon," he said.

Uther stared blankly at him. "This is…?" he asked out loud.

Merlin was taller than Uther, but he could scarcely tell. The older man's presence was a black hole; seeming to dwarf all around him. The longer Uther gawked at him, the longer Merlin wondered what he'd done wrong. Was it his clothes? His hair? Had Uther heard his snarky remark about the taxidermy?

He shuddered. Imagining his own head staring lifeless from a new wooden plaque-

The insult ruffled Arthur, his words coming in short cuts. "_This_, is friend from school I _told you_ was coming to stay," he replied. "To visit the Notre Dame Campus—"

"Merlin Emry's, pleased to meet you," Merlin added, trying to look un-phased.

Uther shook Merlin's hand with stiff obligation, squeezing a little too tight for comfort.

And he ignored the compliment altogether.

"Your fight was two hours late," he barked back at Arthur.

"The connection was delayed. I can't control the snow."

"I had to cancel an important meeting because of your _poor _scheduling," He growled in reply. "Next time you're going to be late, spend the evening at a hotel. You have the finances."

"Noted, Father," Arthur swallowed. "I promise it won't happen again."

The quick obedience softened Uther, approval settling in the deep lines of his mouth. He patted Arthur on the shoulder, but briefly, as if the contact would burn if held too long.

"You must be tired, and I have a call to take in my study. Arthur, why don't you take your friend upstairs to the guest room and… make yourselves at home." Uther said, his tone suggesting that, at least where _Merlin_ was concerned, he meant anything but.

Merlin loudly exhaled when he entered the bedroom. He'd been holding his breath all the way up the staircase, though he hadn't realized it until now.

Arthur's bedroom was massive and as impersonal as a corporate office. There were sports banners; a shelf full of sparkling athletic trophies, but nothing else to show a person had lived there. It was almost as if the room had been staged for display over comfort.

Merlin rolled his bag to the corner of the richly furnished space, flopping down on a four-post bed teeming with pillows. "Watching you and your Father talk is as like a verbal boxing match."

"Except it's not always verbal," Arthur groaned.

Concern puckered Merlin's eyebrows.

"Everything will be fine-"

Arthur jumped next to Merlin on the bed, the force knocking him a few inches off the mattress. "We'll keep our mouths shut, nod when he wants us to. As long as you don't talk about sports and eat what's put on your plate, we're golden. I've planned the trip so we'll leave on a Saturday, that gets us out of Sunday Catholic Mass and another potential headache." Mischief spread across his face, thinning his lips. "Although I'm do for a good confession after the fun we've been having."

"When will you tell him?"

He leaned into Merlin's shoulder, playing with a tassel of a silken pillow sham. "The last day of the trip, it'll make life easier for everyone."

Somehow Merlin doubted this, but there was sincere belief in Arthur's voice, and he didn't have the heart to contradict him. Instead he mumbled, "We could make this a vacation, nothing else. A nice trip to see your family, what's wrong with that?"

"I didn't fly 2,000 plus miles to chicken out—"

"I know. It's just…. I have a bad feeling about it all."

Arthur's answer was to roll on top of Merlin, straddling him tightly between his thighs. "You and your _feelings_," he cooed, giving Merlin a pouting look so adorable, it could melt paint off walls.

"Excuse me for having more emotions than lust and vanity," Merlin replied, inwardly cursing the fact that a single dose of Arthur's puppy face made him woozy. He batted Arthur back with one of the many pillows at his disposal, but Arthur caught mid swipe and threw it to the floor.

He crept his fingers up Merlin's shirt, sliding out one button, then a second, until white skin and the faint line of a happy trail came into view. "What emotion am I switched on to now?" he purred, planting a row of gentle kisses down Merlin's chest.

"No way," Merlin replied, dogging the affection with a roll to the right. "If you think I'm doing _anything_ with your father in the house, you're a bigger fool than I realized."

Arthur refused to let Merlin budge from underneath him. "This is my house too," he countered.

"And my place in that house is the _guest room_. Aren't you supposed to be helping me bring my things there?"

"Fantastic idea!" He grabbed Merlin by the hand, yanking him into the hallway as Merlin held closed his billowing shirt. As soon as they were inside the guest room, Arthur locked the door, confirmed the curtains were closed, and pushed a dizzy Merlin defiantly onto the king sized bed.

"You're insane," Merlin whispered up at him.

"I thought I only had two emotions," Arthur replied, pressing his face into Merlin's collarbone.

"I was mistaken, you have three. Four if you count…if you count prattyness—"

"That isn't a word," Arthur drawled back. He pulled his shirt over his head, letting Merlin admire the view. The skin kissed golden from the California sun, the musculature of his torso, sturdy and athletic from his weekly workouts. When he was certain he had his boyfriend's full attention Arthur continued his mission, pink ribbon lips trailing the pulse at Merlin's throat.

Merlin could feel the caressing intensify. The chaste kisses turning to bruising love bites at his neck. Tingling with a painful kind of pleasure that made his blood rush. "No hickeys…" He sighed, his voice growing thin and audibly less resistant. "Someone could see them—"

"Think of them as art," Arthur replied, admiring his handiwork. He let his mouth make a last purple claim at the base of Merlin's neck, then added, "The bed sheets, your body, they're all my canvas tonight…"

He pulled back on top of Merlin, his arms holding strong around his waist. Erection strained against his jeans, rubbing into Merlin's thigh in wordless invitation.

And Merlin found he was lost again, craving. As was always the case with this Arthur, once they started, there was no going back. He inhaled, hitching as Arthur's tongue went straight for his earlobes.

_God damn it. Why did he always have to go for the ears?_

"He'll hear us," Merlin whimpered with a voice on edge.

Arthur walked his fingers up Merlin's thigh, cupping the bulge at front of the skinny jeans that perfectly filled his large hand. "He won't if we're q_uiet_," he whispered, making slow circular motions with his palm. "You can be _quiet_ for me, can't you love?"

_Merlin had more than enough. _

_"Me?"_

He broke their kiss and propped himself underneath Arthur, slipping the belt from his jeans, unzipping them with his mouth in a prolonged and teasing fashion. Arthur made a plea into Merlin's back, and without warning, the pale man slid his hand down the loose elastic of Arthur's boxers, his fingers curling skillfully around his cock.

He slid it out, letting his mouth take the place of his hands.

Arthur hissed softly, his hips easing into a rhythm with Merlin's stroking tongue. Merlin refusing to stop until Arthur was bowed and panting above him, noises of pleasure carefully constrained.

_Careful was key._

Uther was downstairs... and still awake. Though this thought terrified Merlin, the wicked part to him wanted Arthur all the more for it. To make love together in this room, to spite his father. To let Arthur push deep inside him on the refined white sheets. In a bed Merlin was meant to sleep in alone-

"Christ, point taken—" Arthur finally gasped, guiding Merlin's lanky body on top of him.

"Not nearly enough." Merlin protested, licking the warm taste of Arthur on his lips.

"I can't believe I'm going to get some in this house—"

"With something other than your right hand?" Merlin smirked.

Arthur chuckled, stripping Merlin of his pants and briefs at the same time, his expression that of a child impatiently unwrapping their Christmas present. "Need a reminder of what that hand can _do_?"

"No," Merlin smiled, squirming as Arthur brushed the bare skin of his behind. "But I wouldn't mind a trick or two from that mouth of yours—"


	48. Chapter 48

Disappointment felled Merlin like a sucker punch. There wasn't a speck of green on the plates laid before him. He surveyed the burnt hash browns, the gravy, scrambled eggs, and three varieties of meat (_Who really eats bacon, sausage and ham in one sitting?_), but there wasn't so much as a parsley garnish topper.

Breakfast at the Pendragon household was served promptly at 7:00am and Merlin had known better then to oversleep. The combination of time difference, sex and airplane food had him famished by morning anyway, his stomach waking him with grumbling complaints. He'd ignored its gnawing. Sprawled across the Egyptian cotton sheets and found expansive emptiness at both sides of him.

It had been lonely—waking up solo for the first time in weeks.

He'd straightened up the linens (what should have been a two-person job for a bed this big), wishing for the help of a second set of hands. Preferably firm calloused ones—skilled with a paintbrush. Once he was fully groomed, he knocked on Arthur's door, the tension slipping from his shoulders as it opened.

Arthur did a double take when he saw Merlin. He gawked at his dark denim jeans, and the plain logo hoodie covering the hickey clusters at his pale neck. The heavy layers of winter clothing made him appear a few pounds heavier then he was, but Merlin supposed this a good thing. Today he'd planned to look like a challenge for Uther to snap in half.

Before they'd reached the ground floor, Arthur had tugged back the hoodie, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You look so…normal," he'd said. "It's weird."

"So much for blending in. You know how long it took me to find something to cover these bruises, Arthur? Was afraid I'd have to borrow your sister's makeup—"

"It's a good look on you."

"_Makeup? _You joking? You'd better not be getting any ideas_-"_

Arthur shook the smug from his face, tracing a purple blotch with his thumb and Merlin stifled a yawn. "Oh. You mean looking like a junior high kid after _seven minutes in heaven_?"

"No," Arthur mumbled, hiding his handiwork back under the folds of fabric. "Looking like you're _mine_."

_His— _

The memory tickled Merlin; though he was deathly aware now was not the time to be thinking about Arthur in _that_ way. He rubbed the bridge of is nose, giving Uther a sidelong glace to make sure the silver lion was still busy dissecting his newspaper.

A leg hooked Merlin from underneath the dining table, jolting him in surprise.

"You've got to eat something," Arthur said under his breath. "How about the hash browns? That's vegan, right?"

"Not when they've been cooked in bacon fat…" Merlin sighed.

"Eggs then? Pretend its tofu or quinoa, or that muesli crap you like—"

He did his best to ignore how Arthur's calf nuzzled comfortably against his. The physical contact was as jarring as an electric pulse, yet wholly unsatisfying. "You mean embryos…" Merlin whispered, stirring the eggs with his fork. "_Drippy _embryos…."

Arthur gave a no-nonsense _my father is watching you_ grunt, and Merlin stuffed a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth before Uther turned, chewing them like broken glass.

It was the first time he'd eaten animal protein in ten years and the disgust must have shown, Arthur stifling a laugh into his napkin.

How the hell was this _funny_? Just because Arthur had spent weeks at Merlin's parent's house eating vegetables he'd had to teach Arthur to pronounce (Jicama) didn't mean he had the right to put Merlin through torture.

Uther flipped to another page of the financial section, the crisp sound of the newsprint rustling through the fancy dining room. A room with a heavy mahogany table, high ceilings and rows of leather cushioned chairs that looked made to serve twenty, not the meager three it held. Arthur's father had said a low good morning as they'd sat for breakfast. Made them close their eyes to say Grace before eating. But after the one-minute ritual he'd outright ignored them; which was just fine in Merlin's book.

Arthur didn't flinch at his father's behavior; he'd taken his seat beside Uther, and, as soon as he was permitted, tucked into his breakfast with the starved ferocity of a competitive eater. Merlin watched Arthur's languid chewing. How his face changed from pleased, to positively orgasmic as he devoured his sausages and double portion of scrambled eggs. At least something at the table was giving Arthur pleasure—

That was, until Uther's voice rose through the scraping of cutlery.

"Arthur. How are your classes going?" he asked pleasantly.

Arthur grabbed a piece of crispy bacon from a platter. "Great. Straight A's this semester," he smiled.

"Have you given any thought to an Internship?"

"No, not yet."

"I'm surprised you haven't secured one already," Uther said sharply. "It's your junior year."

"I have plenty of time to apply-"

"Most transfer students don't apply for internships until spring semester, or summer vacation," Merlin added, taking another forced bite of eggs and swallowing the revulsion that rose in his throat.

Uther took a drink from his coffee mug, leaving a dark stain on its upper lip. When he spoke again, it was with thinly veiled contempt. _"_My son is not _most student._ How many times have I told you, Arthur, if you want to win in life, you play ahead of the game; you make _sure _you're on top by showing _initiative_, putting in _effort_—"

"Yes, Sir," Arthur swallowed.

"I don't pay $40,000 a semester for you to slack off. You're twenty-three years old, not three. You made the choice to go to an art school on my dime instead of a _real_ college, so you damn well better not fuck it up. I want a solid degree in your hand at the end of this farce, a _real _career. Am I making myself clear?"

Arthur pushed away his plate as if he'd suddenly lost his appetite. "I'll take care of it," he said, his expression drawn and tight.

Merlin looked helplessly towards him, but Arthur wouldn't meet his eyes. He absorbed himself instead with his cloth napkin, folding and refolding it in his lap. Merlin had never seen Arthur like this, so timid. His Arthur, who'd always spoken his mind, to the point of being crass; who on their very first meeting had asked Merlin who the hell he was, then turned around and accused him of bedding his girlfriend.

Sure, at the time all Merlin had wanted was to slap the cocky bastard across the face, but looking back he could laugh at the absurdity of it. Heck, it even made him a little hot under the collar to remember Arthur's smoldering blues appraising him.

Merlin's stomach churned, hand gripping his fork until his knuckles whitened. He wasn't sure what disgusted him more, that Arthur was so emotionally controlled by his father, or the pleasure that Uther seemed to derive from this power play. It hadn't escaped Merlin's notice that as soon as Arthur had stopped eating, Uther regained a healthy appetite, heaping more greasy food onto his plate.

Chewing as leisurely as a king—

This was a game to him. And one he apparently wasn't through with. He was waiting. Calculating. Once Arthur had regained his normal color, Uther asked,_ "_So, what are your plans for the week?"

"Football hall of Fame museum," Arthur said carefully. "The Studebaker museum, and the Notre Dame campus of course…"

"Shame about the National Championships this year—"

Cool distant eyes locked on Merlin.

Merlin bit his tongue. Trying not to gag at the white spittle in the corner of Uther's mouth. He felt like he was having a surprise quiz from the strictest teacher at school, but unlike his high school math days, he was prepared. He'd studied college football basics with Arthur on the flight in preparation. Learning dull as dirt statistics, moves, and the major local team names.

_He could do this._

"Yeah," Merlin smiled indulgently, making sure to greet Uther's stoney expression head on. He dabbed his lips with his napkin, positioning it back on his plate to conceal a barely touched meal. "The Fighting Irish were robbed, weren't they?"

"Robbed?" The spittle trickled down Uther's chin until he wiped it clean with the back of his palm. "That's generous. The Crimson Tide massacred them, didn't help our team played like a bunch of limp-wristed girls—"

Merlin nodded silent agreement. It was all he could do.

The pinched wrinkles between the older man's brow relaxed. He folded the corner of paper and asked, "So, Merlin, who's your team back home? Stanford or USC?"

Merlin blinked his surprise.

_Damn it_.

He'd gone over plenty about football with Arthur in the last 48 hours, but nothing about teams in California. Here he was utterly lost.

He paused. "Stanford?" He said, his reply sounding more like a question then an answer.

Arthur, sensing the danger, changed the subject. "Dad, I was thinking you could join us for the ND campus tour, seeing as it's your old alma matter—"

"Time is money, Arthur," Uther said, falling into a familiar scowl. "You may have a vacation, but I have a merger coming up and two college loans to pay. Do your sightseeing, we'll have dinner together tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll call in favors to find an internship. Since _my adult son_ can't be bothered to take that burden upon himself."

Arthur looked like he'd been slapped, without a hand ever touching him. Whatever he'd professed to Merlin before their trip, the offense in his eyes didn't lie.

He cared about his father's opinion. It mattered to him.

"I'll clear the dishes," he said, getting up from the table.

"I see moving out's taught you _some_ responsibility," Uther replied, thrusting his empty coffee mug into Arthur's hand, and a heaping pile of plates into Merlin's. "Hand wash those, boys. I don't' want to see any chips on my good china."


	49. Chapter 49

"Asshole." Arthur snarled softly.

They padded into the kitchen, Arthur wincing at the hard wood under his toes. He'd forgotten how the cold permeated into the floorboards, and suddenly he wished he'd remembered to pack a pair of slippers. At the very least an icepick, so he could take a better stab at thawing his glacier of a father.

"Come on boney," He said, mussing Merlin's already hopeless hair. "Let's see what greens I can find you to eat."

Merlin rubbed into the touch like a house-cat, placing the stack of dirty breakfast dishes into a stainless steel sink. "You have two fridges?" he announced, turning circles in the open kitchen.

"We have lots of things. Four cars, eight bedrooms, a pool, a whole mansion of meaningless possessions and endless hostility—"

"And floral still life's?" He quipped, regarding a painting of lilies hung to the right the kitchen island. "Didn't take your Father for an art connoisseur," he scratched his neck adding, "More of a head hunter—"

"He isn't. That's my mother's painting."

The revelation made Merlin's eyes sparkle. He nosed closer to the canvas. "Lovely," he concluded, settling on a bar stool at the island. "Was she formally trained?"

Arthur sifted through the first fridge. "Two year degree in Fine Arts, but she gave it up for my father when they got married. Like a fool in love."

"I think I can sympathize…"

He tore the cap off a Tropicana juice with his teeth. "Are you joking? What the hell's romantic about that—"

Merlin frowned, looking ashamed he'd opened his mouth, and Arthur swallowed his guilt with a gulp of orange juice straight from the carton. He hated being short with Merlin. It made him feel like a prick. Reminded him that if he didn't keep his flaring temper in check, he'd morph into his father—the last person he wanted to be.

"What I meant is, being lovers means being equals," he corrected. "One partner shouldn't sacrifice everything for the other. I'll never let you jeopardize your future for me again, Merlin."

The first fridge turned up empty, so Arthur searched the second, putting the only veggies he could find on the granite counter top as a peace offering. If Merlin wasn't in the mood for celery and two carrots, well, that was his problem.

"I'm sorry about your Mother," Merlin said, biting the tip off a wilting carrot. "I didn't mean to bring up a difficult subject..."

"Her name was Ygraine, and don't be," Arthur shrugged. "It's not like I remember her. She had me two months early, died from complications with preeclampsia. Shouldn't have me to begin with, she never very healthy from what I've heard. But my father wanted kids, and well, you've seen how he is. Uther gets what Uther wants and to hell with everyone else…"

Merlin's voice dropped a notch. "Arthur, don't say that—"

He subtly ignored Merlin. He didn't want to hurt him, but neither could he handle the pity etched on his boyfriend's face. He'd gotten enough pity in his childhood from friends and relatives with living mothers. Mothers who packed them sandwiches for lunch. Mothers they'd known and loved. Arthur had a brief taste of that the seven years Morgan's mom was married to Uther. But even at five it didn't escape his notice that Morgan got twice as many cookies as him at snack time. That his stepmother read stories and sung songs to her "real" child before bedtime, instead of locking her in a dark bedroom alone, as Arthur was.

He looked up at the painting. It was delicate, eerie in its soft beauty, just like the black and white photo of Ygraine on her wedding day Uther kept at his nightstand. She looked like a child bride in the picture. A smile touching her lips as she stared kindly at whomever had taken the photo. Arthur had seen the photo and her paintings a thousand times, yet he never tired of looking at either.

"Talk to me," Merlin pressed. He reached for Arthur's hand across the counter, his voice thick with concern. "Please."

Arthur shook his old memories aside, saying more to himself then Merlin,

"My father threw away most of my mom's belongings after she died; Morgan's mom, purged the rest. But I guess he couldn't bear to get rid of her paintings. I used to look at them for hours, then one day I decided to take it up myself. _I_t's laughable looking back; I was ham-fisted, far better with a baseball bat then a paintbrush. But I was convinced learning to paint would help me understand the person she was. I never have, but in a way it's helped me understand myself—"

He let go of Merlin's fingers. Leaned over the counter top and fiddled with the leafy stalk of the carrot in Merlin's mouth. "You could say going to art school saved me—"

The edges of Merlin's eyes crinkled, the curiosity in them unmistakable. "How so?" he asked between bites.

Arthur tugged the half eaten vegetable from Merlin's mouth, sadness cast aside, and urge rising in his belly to take its place. He leaned in, nibbling tentatively at Merlin's lips as if he were a main course. Merlin's eyes went half lidded, after a moment he pulled back, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, I never would have been this happy if I hadn't gone to California and met—"

"Met _whom_?"

A young woman was coming in from the sliding door to the patio. She was clad in an open plum coat and black leggings that accentuated her slim calves. At her throat dangled a solitary diamond necklace, a present from her sweet sixteenth, jet-black hair dribbling in a loose boho braid. Arthur immediately recognized his half sister Morgan by her superfluous amount of cleavage, and lips that held a mischievous arch—just fishing for trouble.

"Oh, don't let me interrupt you, do go on—" she teased, kicking the snow off her boots.

"Didn't realize Uther unlocked your kennel this early, Morgan," Arthur barked. "What's the matter, water bowl run dry?"

Morgan peered into the kitchen, checking to see that all the doors were shut. She unzipped her boots and replied. "I spent the night Mom's."

"That code for Accolon's place?"

"Accolon and I are old news-"

"Get back to me in a week. You two are as on again off again as a pair of rabbits." Arthur grinned.

The look on her face could have shot bullets. Arthur was only too happy when Morgan passed out of firing range, slipping onto a stool next to Merlin.

"As far as daddy is concerned, I'm not home yet. If either of you breathes a word to him, I swear I'll—"

Merlin choked nervously on his carrot.

Like a puma fixed on a crippled doe, Morgan turned. "Is this the friend from California dad said you were bringing?" She smirked. "Doesn't look like the usual meat-heads you hang out with, Arthur. Kinda cute actually, in a dorky way—"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Leave him be Morgan….."

Merlin dropped his carrot and offered his hand. "I'm Merlin," he stammered. "Emrys."

"Merlin? The name's familiar. Hey, you're Gwen's roommate right? I've seen pictures of you two together on Facebook. So that means your Arthur's—"

"Roommate by default," Arthur replied. When Morgan raised a questioning eyebrow he added, "My social network in California isn't what it used to be. I'm working on it."

"You and Gwen go to _fashion_ classes together, don't you Merlin?" She looked Merlin up and down like a cut of meat, rolled her tongue across her front teeth and said, "_Fashion_. _Huh_. So Merlin, are you—"

Arthur cursed inwardly. Hadn't he heard that line before? Said it himself only a few months ago? In some ways his powers of deduction and Morgan's were eerily similar. Even if he'd rather burn at the stake then _ever_ admit it. He inserted himself in-between them, with the pretext of handing an apple to Merlin. "Would I have invited him down for the weekend if he _was_?"

It wasn't a lie, more a like a trick. Morgan knew him as the Arthur of infamous keg nights, the Arthur who'd broken her friend's hearts with a single wink. He prayed that she could still see him that way—at least, for a few more days.

"So, what's the vacation plan, boys?" She asked, Arthur's reply satisfying her curiosity—at least for the moment. "Get smashed at the local bars?"

"Basically," Arthur replied, heading back to the fridge. "This is my obligatory visit home, you're required to have one when you move away. I figure Merlin and I can tour South Bend, hit the bars, shovel snow, get frostbite, all that exciting shit."

"Tour South Bend? That'll take all of five minutes. But I can help with the bar part. I'm meeting a few friends tonight at the Linebacker, you two can tag along. Call up your buddies. That is if Arthur promises not to rebound with any of my _other _friends—"

Arthur slammed the fridge shut, a half-eaten Kraft single dangling in his mouth. "Let it go, Morgs—"

"I'm still pissed at you," she cut.

"Come on! You ripped me a new asshole over the phone. Let's move on—"

Morgan threaded her fingers together, considering. "Fine," she sighed, cradling her chin. "I'll play nice, only because I never see you anymore—"

Arthur swallowed what was left of his processed cheese. "You need a designated driver for tonight. That it?"

She sulked like a toddler with her hand caught in the cookie jar. "Come on, just do it Arthur. We can take dad's truck-"

"If I agree, will you promise not to _hug_ me?"

"Ewwww, gross. I'd prefer bonding with liquor," Morgan grinned. "Nothing says Pendragon family reunion, dear brother, like the stench of alcohol."


	50. Chapter 50

The sightseeing tour Arthur arranged for Merlin began with white flurries on the windshield of the borrowed Ford, and Merlin pouting in the passengers seat, begging Arthur to forgo the College Football Hall of Fame Museum.

The truck slid into a salted parking space, the museum's yellow goal posts looming into view through straight lines of snow. Merlin braceleted Arthur's wrist with his icy fingers, pleading that he would do anything, _anything_, not to go in there. Arthur replied by turning the heater back on, tucking Merlin's promise in the back of his mind and his freezing hand in his coat pocket. Warning him with a toothy grin he'd make good on that promise later.

They visited the Studebaker museum instead, where Merlin snapped an album's worth of photos of horse drawn carriages, but seemed largely unimpressed by anything made after the 1900's, including the automobiles. Next was sipping piping hot chocolate at the South Bend Chocolate Company café, and picking up an over dressed Morgan at eight.

By then the snow had returned with a vengeance, sifting through the sky like flicks of static on a television screen. They parked in a packed lot, wind whooping at an inflatable Miller Light can hung above a neon sign that clearly read "dive bar", but actually read, "Linebacker Inn".

The Bar was wallpapered in navy blue, gold and greens, the university's football team colors. Four separate sports programs blaring scores from four separate wall- TV's mounted over the bar. Arthur and Morgan made their way through the crowd, Merlin sandwiched between the siblings who clearly knew their way around the place.

"In the back," Morgan shouted, determination quickening her steps. "Looks like your friends are already here."

A giant of a man smiled ear to ear as he saw them, signaling above the droves. He stood a head taller then everyone else in the room, so it was little wonder patrons parted like the Red Sea as he plowed through them.

"Hey Morgs, and hole-e-shit, _Pen-dra-gon_!" the giant cried, in both surprise and joy.

The titan's hand walloped Arthur's back. The gesture would have sent a lesser man flying, but Arthur had a firm bearing and barely flinched. "Been a while, Percival," he replied, slugging Percival's meaty bicep.

"What the hell you doing here, bro?"

"I'm on winter vacation. What can I say, I missed the place—"

"Bull," Percival grinned. "But it's good to see you anyway."

With Percival's help, they cleared a path to the back of the bar, where a party was loosely gathered at a double picnic table. From what Merlin could tell, the main group consisted of the meaty guy, Percival, a gentle looking man with sandy curls and scraggly facial hair who introduced himself as Leon, and a few other jocks.

"Everyone," Arthur announced loudly, "Meet Merlin, my buddy from California," adding with a pause and a lick of his lips. "Play nice with him, okay?"

Merlin wasn't sure what to make of things. This wasn't his usual crowd—half the guys outweighed him twice over and looked like they pumped iron and swallowed raw eggs for breakfast. His concerns disintegrated when he was bombarded with _any_ _friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine_, handshakes, struggling not to fall over as Percival's mallet of a hand shook his.

Morgan took her seat first, next to Leon, helping herself to his beer as if he'd been saving it for her all along.

"Hey," Leon said, with only mild perturbation. "I was going to drink that—"

Morgan smiled, a demure closed mouth smile with a touch of pout. A smile Merlin assumed she'd adopted long ago, when she found it melted the straight men around her like ice cubes.

"Was it? My mistake," she said, pinching his scruffy cheek. "Guess you'll have to buy a another."

Arthur filled the chair at Leon's other side, patting him on the back like an old buddy, and Leon returned the gesture.

"We're short one man, no Elyan tonight?" Arthur inquired.

Leon's face contorted. He shook his head, a crinkle of hair falling in his eyes. "Come on Arthur, what did you expect? Gwen's his sister—"

Arthur grimaced, then nodded back, the response telling Merlin all he needed to know. That Arthur's buddies were aware of his messy break up.

Well, at least the cover story version.

He motioned to Merlin to sit next beside him, but Merlin found himself stumbling out of the way of a new arrival before he could claim his place. A woman wedged between them. Her hair wedding band platinum, face heart shaped, revealing perfect Shirley Temple dimples as she smiled. Arthur turned around just in time to receive a sloppy, pastel tinged kiss on his cheek.

"Vivian?" he choked, wiping the greasy lipstick off with his palm.

"Morgan didn't tell me _you_ were coming!" The woman cried, with a voice high enough to shatter glass. "It's been sooooo long, Arthur!"

A grumble of disgust slipped from Merlin's mouth before he could check it. Arthur caught his eye as if to say, _don't be ridiculous_, and brushed the girl's flirting away with good hearted laugh.

Merlin had known Arthur was the textbook "popular kid" back home. He'd seen the yearbook photos of him and Gwen together, the team pictures. But seeing Arthur the social butterfly in action was something else. He was clearly in his element here, more so than he'd been back at school. A frothy beer had already been thrust into his hands. Arthur looked at it with the same longing Merlin reserved for his cigarettes, but shook his head mumbling _driving tonight_, and passed it off to Leon.

It seemed like Arthur's friends multiplied the longer he sat down, more and more popping out of the woodwork to say hello. Arthur glowed under the spotlight shining on him. Everyone it seemed was inexplicably drawn to his charisma—just as Merlin had been.

_Still was._

But Merlin couldn't stop scowling at the overly forward Vivian. Bad enough she'd usurped his seat next to Arthur, leaving him to lean against the grimy wall, but did she have to _touch_ him all the time? To press her chest against Arthur's back in a fake attempt to move away from the crowd.

Merlin bit the inside of his full lip. Hard.

He got up, forced his way back to the bar, wishing the phrase "if looks could kill" actually worked. When Merlin asked for a ginger ale, the bartender looked at him as if he'd spoken a foreign tongue by ordering something non-alcoholic. All the same, he wiped his sweaty palms on his apron and produced the drink. Merlin leaned against the counter, milking it. Normally he would have ordered a drink for Arthur too, but he was hardly in the mood now.

After a few minutes alone, a body slid beside him, sweet breath whispering in his ear. "Order something for me, will you Merlin?" Morgan said, implementing the same smile she'd used on Leon earlier.

Merlin fished through his wallet, handing her a twenty. "Get whatever you'd like."

Her eyes glistened; she took the bill tenderly, hopped her butt up on the counter and flirted with the same sweaty bartender. Her efforts were rewarded by a clear beverage and change she neatly placed back in her own purse. Whatever Morgan had ordered, it smelled potent. Reminding Merlin of the paint thinner in the fine art classrooms.

"Fan of blonde's?" Morgan said, glancing back at their table. "I could break the ice for you, if you want—"

"Already know him."

She laughed hoarsely. "Vivian, silly. Since you _clearly _can't stop staring at her—"

Merlin swallowed his ginger ale to recover, realizing what an idiot he'd been. Of course she'd been talking about _the girl_.

"Um… girls like _that_… I mean…they never talk to me—" he said, trying to sound forlorn, if not a little jealous of the attention Vivian was paying Arthur.

_As if._

Morgan's eyes drifted to her fairer half brother and the woman draped over him like a fleshy coat. "Probably for the best," she said, finishing her mystery drink. "Vivian's father's a beast. Keeps her on the shortest leash I've ever seen. If Arthur were smart, he'd think with something other than his prick for a change."

"Poor girl," Merlin replied in mock sympathy. "Can't be easy for her."

"Sure you don't want me to introduce you?"

"I really don't think I'm her type—"

"Just what is your t_ype_, Merlin?"

He looked into his glass for an answer. When it revealed nothing but bubbling carbonation, he stared up at the TV, feigning interest in the latest scores. After a moment, he felt a gentle rubbing on his back that he thought was his imagination—until a thumb trailed a familiar track between his shoulder blades.

Arthur. His savior.

Merlin could have cried with joy—that was until he noticed Vivian still stapled to his arm.

Merlin hated being jealous. _Hated it_.

It wasn't in his blood. Wasn't how his parents had raised him.

But seeing this girl, practically attached to Arthur…It was like watching Arthur and Gwen all over again. Didn't help that Vivian had absolutely no fashion sense. Jean studded cut offs, a half top, and light pink lipstick in the dead of winter? Who was she kidding?

He understood this wasn't the time or the place for Arthur to come out to his friends. Particularly when he hadn't told Uther yet. And here, a den of country music and cheap booze, seemed like a dangerous place for anyone to voice an attraction for another man.

But it still _stung._

"Mer, I've been looking for you," Arthur said, his voice rich as milk.

Merlin pushed back his glass, forcing a smile. "Hmm, that so?" he replied.

Arthur took the drink, putting his lips to the spot Merlin had pressed his earlier, and finished it off with a tilt. "I was thinking, how about a game of pool, you and me?"

_You mean you, the succubus and me?_ Merlin wanted to say. Instead he shrugged, following Arthur to the "gaming area".

The bed of the solitary pool table was worn as old carpet; the green turned curdled mustard with age. A stained glass light rocked above it, the rack already set and waiting to be broken. Merlin grabbed a cue, the varnish flaking in leaves underneath his grip.

"I play winner," Leon chimed, patting Merlin on the back. "Luck buddy, our Arthur's a real shark when it comes to pool."

Arthur pried Vivian off his sleeve; giving her to Percival like a plague he'd narrowly avoided. Percival seemed all too happy to indulge in the platinum blonde's company, already offering to buy her a drink.

"Do you know how to play?" Arthur asked, catching a cue from Leon mid throw. He gripped it in his right hand, grabbed what was left of a blue chalk cube and slathered the tip with slow careful strokes.

Merlin felt his ears burn. "I've played a few—"

"I'll teach you," Arthur interrupted. He looked around slowly, then stood behind Merlin, propping the cue his hand. "Tip number one, technique. Try the open bridge. Hold your hand like this—"

Arthur's hipbone grazed Merlin's back, rubbing through his jeans. He pushed the heel of Merlin's hands and fingertips firmly on the table, pointing his thumb upwards. "Perfect," he breathed, guiding the smooth shaft back and forth over Merlin's thumb in pantomime.

Merlin shuddered, trying not to close his eyes. He was beyond thankful to be wearing his shapeless baggy sweater.

"I'm sorry about Vivian," Arthur whispered, so soft Merlin almost missed it. "She's on old friend. She doesn't mean anything."

"S'alright," Merlin said, looking to see where the rest of Arthur's "friends" were.

Percival was with Vivian at the bar. But if her slagging posture and helpless glances at Arthur were any indication, it wasn't going well for him. Morgan had joined a cluster of girls her age, Leon holding her drink and waiting patiently on the sidelines.

"I'll make you a proposition," Arthur continued, leaning in close. "If you lose the game, when we get home as a consolation—" His voice dropped low in Merlin's ears, the ripe scent of his cologne overpowering. "I'll fuck your brains out."

Merlin's heart died in his ribs. He exhaled, waiting for it to beat back to life.

If Arthur didn't stop being so damn alluring, he was going to need an EMT—

"Don't you mean, _if you win this game_?" he whispered back.

He released Merlin's hand, sliding his fingers across his wrist. "There's is no way you're going to win," He smiled. "And we don't want to disappoint ourselves—do we?"

Merlin leaned against the pool table, pretending to be interested in their game, not hiding a now raging hard on. He held his breath. Took the shot. Aware that Arthur's eyes were set on him. Aware that Arthur's friends were coming back to watch the starting competition. Aware that he'd done something good, because two solid colored balls clanked into the corner pocket, and Leon whooped praise in the distance.

Merlin grinned, cracking his knuckles for show.

"You didn't tell me you could _play_—" Arthur choked.

"You never asked," Merlin replied, using the pregnant pause to chalk his cue. "I don't drink, Arthur, I don't follow any teams. What do you think I do when my friends drag me to bars? I may suck at most sports but I'm good with my hands."

Now it was Arthur visibly tensing, Arthur pressing himself awkwardly into the pool table as he gathered his bearings.

"If I win," Merlin replied. Making sure his jeans rode low enough to reveal a peek of boxers when he took his next shot. "And trust me Arthur, I plan on it."


	51. Chapter 51

Merlin won the game by the slimmest of margins, but it was enough. Someone, a lanky awkward boy for that matter, had beaten the illustrious Arthur Pendragon at pool.

It was enough to make Morgan spit her drink out in shock. Enough for Vivian to give Merlin a second look, reevaluating. Enough for Percival and Leon to buy Merlin two beers, which he'd drank out of forced obligation, and dub him Merlin the "(Pen)dragon slayer" through tear stained laughter.

Arthur pretended to be furious, though inside he was beaming with pride. He slammed his fists against the pool table and called for a rematch. Consoling himself with salted peanuts when this was universally denied. He used his mock outrage to end the night early, telling Vivian he wasn't in the mood to go with her to a second bar (i. bed). And for all Morgan's bitching that morning about n a designated driver, she decided to spend the night with a female friend of hers. At least, that was her story. And Arthur was too preoccupied to care if it was true.

Merlin had proven himself to Arthur's friends. Won their respect. A feat not easily achieved, especially by someone as, well, _unusual_ as Merlin. If the beers and banter were any indication, his friends genuinely _liked _Merlin.

The thought warmed Arthur better than a shot of good whiskey.

He drove home from the bar like a bat out of hell; Merlin shouting that if Arthur didn't _cool-the-f-down_, they'd end up in a snowdrift. Which they almost did—

Twice.

He pulled into the empty driveway, parking crooked. Typed in the security code at the front door and whisked Merlin up the stairs, coat and all.

"Uther?" Merlin coughed, catching his breath.

"It's midnight. He's sleeping." Arthur replied.

They passed the guestroom; Arthur and Morgan's bedrooms, Arthur leading them through the pitch-black hall to the last room on the second floor. The door pushed open like a breeze, lights casting angel halos above them. Arthur locked the door, crossed the room and fussed with the dials of a walk-in shower wich soaked the sleeve of his coat.

Like everything in his father's house, the bathroom was ostentatious and twice as large as it needed to be. Why Uther had thought he'd needed a Jacuzzi tub, a walk-in shower, and enough room to roller skate in was beyond him.

Maybe the old man had a better romantic life than Arthur had given him credit for-

A steady jet streamed from a double shower head, Arthur twisting metal until he found a temperature that sent steam rolling off the marble floors like dragon's breath.

"The bathroom?" Merlin said, his lips cherry red from the cold, blue eyes uncertain.

"I thought you liked bathrooms?" Arthur smiled. "The shower should muffle the sound…"

"The sound of—"

Arthur threw his coat on the plush white bathmat and shot Merlin a coy gaze. "What did I promise, if you won—?"

Merlin fumbled with his scarf."Didn't think you were serious—"

Oh God, was his hesitation _cute._

He stalked back to Merlin, pressing him against the wall. Untying his scarf and shedding his coat with a fierce tug that pinned Merlin's long arms above his head. "Didn't think you could play," he whispered, kissing Merlin intently. Parting his mouth with a determined slip of his tongue "I love it when you surprise me-"

Merlin nipped Arthur's bottom lip, using his thigh to push him away. His eyes were half slits, cheeks a blush from drinking. The alcohol giving his voice a gravel edge that sent shivers down Arthur's spine. "Wouldn't you rather have Vivian?" He pressed in quiet accusation.

Arthur forced himself between Merlin's legs, keeping his arms prisoner above his head. Kissing him harder fuller, until their kisses became wet and bruising and _slick._ "Don't be an idiot Merlin—"

Merlin trembled, sliding down the wall as Arthur peeled away his hoodie, shirts, nicotine patch, and pants. Letting Merlin kick off his own socks until till he stood before Arthur, naked and shivering. Arthur made short work of his remaining clothes, catching Merlin up in his arms and bringing him to the shower before they both turned to icicles.

Water trickled life-giving heat into their bodies, flushing their skin. Soaking their wind nipped faces and plastering Merlin's unruly hair to his forehead. Arthur watched the droplets dribble down Merlin's long lashes, chuckling at the spectacle. Sliding the damp locks from his face and tasting the water on his chin as he would a fine wine.

They held close, sliding and rubbing to find the position that fit them together like perfect pieces of a puzzle. Arthur pulled a tube of body wash from the side of the shower, working lather in his palms. He slicked Merlin first with a few slow strokes, Merlin's ass clenching underneath his other hand in reaction. He loved the feeling of Merlin's taught balls against his fingers, the exquisite part of his lips and his deep noises of need as Arthur spoiled him.

He worked slowly; binding them together in single purposeful strokes until Arthur couldn't hold the low groan escaped his own mouth. His cock pulsed in his grip. Every fragile kiss of Merlin's wet lips sending him reeling. He pulled back, nuzzling into a pool of water collecting at Merlin's shoulder. Squeezing the base of his shaft and breathing away the danger as Merlin continued on himself.

He only got in a few strokes over Arthur before a glittering bead of pre-cum seeped from the slit, causing him to shake and pause.

Arthur washed the lather from himself. He turned Merlin around until he faced the wall and massaged his lower back, drifting his hand down to work open his entrance with soaked fingers. Merlin's body relaxed under Arthur's touch, as is had many times before. He leaned his thin arms against the tiles, shielding his scissor tattoo from sight. Curving his back so the warm water from he shower head lubricated them both in a steady, vibrating stream.

With a gasp, Arthur entered Merlin. Terrified to move—lest the tight ring of warmth around his cock push him over the edge before they'd begun. He steadied himself. Trailed kissed down Merlin's spine and moved with a slow, calculated rhythm until they found their pace. The hard moist rocking of their bodies sounding steady as a drum beat. The most beautiful music he'd ever heard.

He quickened his thrusts, feeling the aching grow into a deep desire for release. That desire becoming absolute need when Merlin pleaded a strangled "harder", into the wall. Arthur clutched Merlin's waist to the point of bruising, knowing if he couldn't hold out much longer—He gasped as much into Merlin's ear, warning him to slow. That he was close—too close-

Merlin rolled under Arthur's thumbs in answer, causing Arthur to pound harder and deeper, until Merlin tightened around him, grasping his slippery member with a cry as he came beautifully, shamelessly, undone in his hand. Arthur savored his final thrust. His orgasm a throbbing spell that wet his eyes and tore his voice as he called Merlin's name, filling him.

They held together for some time, unable, or unwilling to part. Breathing hot clouds, water pelting them as they whispered romantic nonsense to one another. When they finally separated, sliding to sitting positions on the tile floor, the shower was still going strong.

Arthur turned to Merlin, whose arms were drawn against his chest; his head leaning back on frosted glass with an expression of pure bliss. Merlin looked positively ethereal on a bad day, but even more so after sex. His cutting cheekbones pinked, the lean lines of his body as exquisite as the male models in his Parisian fashion magazines.

He was too perfect to be of this world; and too humble to have any clue of this.

Arthur pulled Merlin's head onto his chest, ignoring his sudden thirst.

"He'd have to have heard that," Merlin sighed, nuzzling into Arthur's chest hair.

"No one heard Love" Arthur chuckled, stroking Merlin's cheek. Thinking that no else in the world could drive him _this_ mad. That there was no one else, who could challenge him, inspire him, frustrate and tease him like Merlin. No other man who could make his soul and his body so completely satisfied. So _full_.

He would tell his Uther everything, and damn the consequence.

He would tell him tomorrow after dinner.

And they would be free.


	52. Chapter 52

Barren trees iced in white signaled the drive onto campus. The University of Notre Dame was breathtaking in winter. The main building, the "Golden Dome", a sandy-bricked Gothic with a gold roof, was glowing like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary December sky.

Arthur took Merlin everywhere in the college, the library, the art museum, even the football stadium, which left him completely unimpressed.

"How many times do I have to say it, I'm not into sports," Merlin groaned.

"Then it's never going to work between us," Arthur teased, posing Merlin in for a couple selfies next to a bronze of coach Knute Rockne.

They had zero pictures of them together. A fact Arthur was going to remedy on this trip.

"Doesn't matter what sport," Merlin amended. "I hate all of them equally, that make you feel any better?"

"Sacrilege," Arthur said, releasing Merlin and digging through his bag of newly purchased logo apparel. To flaunt devotion further, he ripped the tag off a knitted ND cap, placing it tightly over Merlin's head. "Keep those ears warm." He warned.

One attraction they both enjoyed was the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, a Neo Gothic Catholic church modeled after the churches of Europe, and the spiritual center of the school. Color leapt through its impressive stained glass diptych, jeweled blues, yellows and reds as bright as cardinal plumes.

The air in the Basilica was ripe with age. Casual worshipers bent in prayer at the pews, still as the stained glass saints above them. Arthur walked soft footed between pillars of ivory. Pillars so tall they seemed to grow to the heavens, tops blossoming into beautifully carved gold reliefs just before they touched the sky. He had been baptized in this building, been to more Sunday masses here than he could count. There had even been a time when he'd imagined becoming a Notre Dame grad and getting married in the Basilica, just as his father had before him. Standing at the altar as he slipped a diamond band onto the hand of the woman who would be his wife.

In his early years, she had been the faceless archetype of a female. By late high school, she had been Gwen, soft skinned and smiling, a forever companion, nothing more. But now…

As a Catholic, Arthur knew he'd never be allowed to have with Merlin in this church what he'd once imagined having with a woman. But they could have something, couldn't they? Whatever that something was, whatever the relationship blossomed into years down the road, a lasting partnership, a marriage, or heaven forbid a lesson in heartache, Arthur knew he would never regret the choices he was about to make.

He looked behind to Merlin, who was lost in hypnotic concentration by the murals.

"The artist who oversaw those murals was a painter from the Vatican," Arthur said with a note of authority.

"That explains a lot," Merlin replied, straining his neck for a better view of the fresco Angels.

"Are you religious, Merlin?" He asked softly, realizing this was one of many things he still didn't know about his partner.

Merlin considered the question, letting his heels fall back to the ground. "Mom and Giaus are what I'd call, _connoisseurs of spirituality_. When I was younger, they took me to visit churches, temples, shrines, sweat lodges, synagogues, you name it. I wouldn't say I'm religious; spiritual might be a better word. I don't prescribe to any religion in particular, but I see all religion as purposeful. I mean, how can you not be moved when you step into a space like this?"

Arthur placed a gloved hand on Merlin's back. "I have one more thing to show you," he smiled. "I think you'll like this next place it's…Earthy. More your taste—"

"Earthy? Should I be offended by that?" Merlin chuckled.

A short walk from the basilica was a hill of stone cloaked in white powder. It was a curved hallowed hole, note quiet a cave; with a statue of the Virgin Mary hidden between the mossy rocks. Hundreds of candles danced in the shadowed entrance, like fireflies trapped by winter. No matter how the wind raged behind them, nipping and teasing, the flames in the candles still held.

"This is The Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes." Arthur said with a cold breath. He walked inside the stone alcove, took a candle from a box and lit the wick, placing it carefully in line with the others. Then he offered one to Merlin, watching him nimbly light the small glass container.

Merlin stared into the flame intently, for what seemed like hours, until Arthur tugged his sleeve, taking him to row of padded benches just outside the grotto's gates. "Put your knees like this," he instructed, guiding Merlin into place "And your hands just so—"

"What for?" Merlin whispered in a reverent voice.

"Praying to the Virgin Mary. You may not believe in it, but I'd appreciate if you'd humor me. I can use all the help I can get today—"

Merlin agreed without question, closing his eyes as Arthur settled next to him.

Arthur breathed in the damp, letting his anxiety go in a jerky exhale. Last night, after hugging Merlin a sad goodbye and returning alone to his room, he'd had a dream, a nightmare actually. Of fire erupting as he entered a nameless church. Only now did he see how ridiculous it was.

There was no damnation here, only quiet—peace; the silent companionship of nature that would exist long after they'd left this place. Whatever judgment he was going to face, it would come from men's minds, from his father, but never from God.

Arthur opened his eyes; feeling like the weight of the world had already lifted from his shoulders. "Come on, Merlin," he sighed, stretching the cold from his joints. "Lets go back. It's almost dinnertime."


	53. Chapter 53

Dinner was a feast. Mashed potatoes and gravy served in a deep boat. A pot-roast fresh from the oven, with a scent that had Arthur salivating, and Merlin looking like he'd seen the ghost of slaughterhouses past.

The whole Pendragon family was present at the table tonight. Uther, the stoic master of ceremonies, initiating the grace, than hacking the roast into sizable slabs. He cut a lean piece for Morgan, a double helping for Arthur, and a slab for Merlin so rare it sweat blood. When no one was looking, Arthur speared Merlin's roast and onto his own plate, Merlin giving him a grateful nod in return.

"Good news," Uther said, wiping his hands on a napkin before diving into his meal. "I found you an internship Arthur."

Arthur licked his lips, pooling gravy into a trench he'd dug in his potatoes. "I don't know what to say, Dad—"

"Thank you, for a start. It's with Whirlpool, buddy of mine is friendly with HR. You take your phone interview next week, and start the work during summer vacation. The office is in Benton Harbor so the commute shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Whirlpool is a great company…" Arthur said in a dead voice.

"The largest home appliance maker in the world," Uther added.

He knew it was. It was close to South Bend, had tremendous sway in this area, and his field. However, there was no way Arthur wanted to spend an entire summer living with his father again, away from Merlin. Away from the new life he wanted to build in California. "I'll certainly consider it," Arthur replied. "And do some additional research ion what's open in the tech industry. The Bay Area is full of tech companies, and I hear Apple has a phenomenal early recruitment program—"

"You'll _consider_ it?"

"I'm grateful. I am. I was just hoping for something closer to school—"

"Closer to school? Christ," Uther snorted. "What's this about? That girlfriend of yours?"

"He isn't going out with Gwen anymore," Morgan said, twirling her hair around her finger. "They broke up last month."

Merlin went rigid his seat, looking, like he was going to be sick. And not from the smell of the beef.

"That so?" Uther replied, sopping up the last of his meatloaf in the fatty drippings on his plate. "Her father never mentioned it—"

"We didn't' work out," Arthur said calmly.

"Only because you can't keep it in your pants," Morgan snorted, bludgeoning the remnants of her mashed potatoes with her fork.

Uther barked a low pitched. "Morgan!"

"It's true Daddy, you should have seen Arthur schmoozing with Vivian last night-"

Uther perked up. "Vivian? Olaf's daughter?"

Arthur's guts churned. Olaf was an old family friend, with a temper to rival even Uther's. He did not like thinking about Olaf if he could help it. Especially where his daughter was concerned.

"Jesus, I didn't do anything with Vivian!" He blushed. "You think I'm insane? That I haven't thought of the shotgun Olaf keeps above his door?"

"Maybe not," Morgan continued, grey blue eyes gauging for reaction. "But you cheated on Gwen, that's why _she dumped you_ like a ton of bricks. Maybe that's why her dad never mentioned it to Daddy, he was too embarrassed for you-"

Uther regarded his son, a smile creasing the deep ridges by his mouth. "Take it the California women agree with you?" he said with a rugged laugh. "Morgan, your brother is too young to be chained to one woman, and quite frankly I always thought he could do better than Gwen. Now clear the plates, will you? Boys, in the living room, game's on in five."

Arthur felt a raw flash of embarrassment; he stared at his empty plate, his sister glowering defeat as she took their dishes.

Uther made his way into the living room, Morgan to the kitchen.

Arthur held Merlin's arm where he stood, cuffing his wrist. "Merlin, can you manage putting our suitcases in the car?"

Merlin's mouth flattened in a thoughtful line. "We don't leave until tomorrow night."

"I know," Arthur whispered. "But we need to be prepared, if you catch my drift. Load the bags in the car. Grab your coat. I need a moment alone with my father."

Merlin shook his head; as if he couldn't stomach what he was hearing. "Now?"

Arthur nodded, his certainty unwavering.

"And you're sure you don't need me to—"

"What I need," Arthur said, giving Merlin the car keys from his front pocket. "Is for you to load the truck. I'll call you back into the house when I'm done, or I'll join you in the car. I won't know which until—"

Merlin squeezed Arthur's hand, keys indenting his skin. "I'll take care of it," he whispered, sounding a little offended. "If that's what you want. But if you're not out in fifteen I'm coming back for you, and I don't want to hear any shit about it. Is that clear?"

"You won't." Arthur said, the words dry on the roof of his mouth. He tried to quickly put to memory every one of Merlin's features. The ghostly shade of his skin, the pinch of his lips and the stubborn resolve behind his eyes. "I'll be back in fifteen, promise."

Arthur found his father on a sectional couch, one of three gaudy pieces of upholstery in the living room. They had a den better equipped for watching television, but in winter the basement's concrete walls leached in the cold, making the room expensive, if not impossible to heat. Uther had thrown money at contractors to fix the problem, but to no avail. So between December and March, this was the space the family most often entertained in, and where one would find Uther between the hours of 7am and 9pm, if he wasn't buried by papers in his office.

His father's feet were up on a glass coffee table, a 50-inch television streaming canned sitcoms as Uther waited impatiently for his program to be about the house was horrifying tonight. The cream stained wall, the chandelier with its dusty dead insects, and the fond look in Uther's eyes as he patted the couch for Arthur to join him, just like old times.

Arthur inched closer, but he could hardly breathe. The stale air dried his throat. The heater in the room, for once, sweltering. Causing sweat to dampen his armpits, making him feel even more uncomfortable than he already was.

"Dad," he sputtered, taking great lengths to stand straight. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Game's starting," Uther replied, the glare of the TV shadowing his brow.

"It's important."

"What, you knock a girl up?" He grunted, handing Arthur a cold beer from a mini fridge at the side of the couch.

Arthur rolled the can in his hands. He wanted nothing more than to finish the whole thing in a swallow, but he left it untouched on the glass coffee table. "I didn't get anyone pregnant," he whispered.

Uther wrinkled his eyebrows together, upping the volume. "Then what's so damned important it can't wait until the game is over?"

Arthur's heart thumped his chest, so swift and painfully, he was afraid he'd drop dead from a heart attack before he spoke. "Dad," he said again, looking his father straight in the eyes so there could be no misinterpretation. "I'm gay."

Uther's jaw tensed, Arthur swearing he'd heard a tooth crack.

He paused. Waiting for Uther to say something, anything, to break the smothering silence that had fallen between them.

"No,"

"I-"

"No you're **_not_**." It was an authoritative snap, as if the matter was closed. Uther's raw tone suggesting that if Arthur would just _shut his fucking trap,_ he would be generous enough to forget the conversation had ever happened.

Arthur looked through a slit in the curtains for reassurance. He spotted Merlin ankle deep in the snow, loading their things into the car. He swallowed, steeled his face and said calmly, "This isn't debatable."

The TV remote tightened in Uther's grip.

"I wanted to tell you before I left. Merlin and I…We…We'll be moving in together soon and I thought you had the right to know."

"You most certainly will NOT!" Uther roared, "How dare you come into my house and feed me this garbage, this bullshit? Are you telling me I let a faggot sleep in _my_ house?"

"I-"

"I knew," He cursed. "I knew I never should have let you go to a fucking liberal school, look what it's done to—"

"This has nothing to do with school," Arthur interrupted, fear threatening to drown him. He walled it up, stood firm and continued, "It's the way it is, the way I am. Before California, before I could put it into words—"

Uther lumbered from his seat. He looked at his son with revulsion, like Arthur had just confessed a grizzly murder. Part of Arthur understood that in Uther's mind, that was exactly what he'd done. With his admission, he'd killed an ideal. Murdered his father's American dream. But how could he destroy a person who never really existed in the first place? Who was always a strained illusion at best? Was it this loss that had his father so riled? Or was it because for the first time in his adult life, Arthur had dared to _defy_ Uther?

"You'll burn for this—" Uther roared.

"For what?" Arthur scoffed back, his shoulders tensing. "Loving another human being? You honestly think God cares what parts Merlin and I have?"

"He knows sodomy when he sees it. The stain of sin—"

"I'm not afraid of hell, and I'm not ashamed of how I feel. We're moving in together, there's nothing more to it-"He reached to touch his father's shoulder. To remind him that despite all of this, he was still Arthur. Still human. "I swear to you, dad, this doesn't c_hange_ anything. I'm still the same person; I'm still your son-"

He slapped Arthur away, expression as vicious as his dragon surname,. The veins in his neck thick as garden hoses and pulsing with fury. "You're no son of mine—"

"I don't expect you to agree, or to pay for my school anymore. But if you could just try to listen, to understand how hard this is—"

Uther kicked over the coffee table, drinks and all."There is nothing _to_ understand!"

"God damn it, I've tried to be what you've wanted!" Arthur shouted, probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "I've pushed myself at school, at sports, I've dated women, I've hid, and I've hurt people all to make you proud of me but you NEVER are! Nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? Do you know how much that kills me? How terrified Morgan and I are of you, our own father? For once in your life, will you think about someone's happiness other than your _fucking_ self—"

There was a sickening crunch, like a branch breaking underfoot. Arthur could taste a metallic flavor coating his tongue as he clutched his face, huffing blood through his fingers.

"Leviticus 20:13," Uther roared, twisting Arthur's body and his bloody shirt into a knot. Pinning his back against the couch and crushing his ribs. "If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; _their blood shall be upon them_—"

Arthur's mind raced, the pain hardly registering over the blood choking down his throat. The blaze in his father's eyes and the clench of the hairy fist prepping for its second strike.

Morgan barreled into the room. "There will be no more blood spilled in this house!" she shrieked, her limbs trembling as she held a phone, pressing in a short series of numbers. "If you don't let Arthur go Dad I'll press 1 and send the cops here! I'll make sure they throw you in jail and put your face on the front of The Tribune tomorrow, is that what you want?"

Arthur felt his father's grip slip.

Uther tossed him aside like a piece of trash, and Arthur scrambled to stand upright. "Get the fuck out of my house, boy," he said, wiping his bloodied knuckles on his pants as casually as a person washing up after a meal. "And don't you come back."

* * *

** I wanted to give a quick update, the final chapters and conclusion of Sew Right should be posted here by the end of July! :) Thank you again so much ****to everyone who has been reading, following, and reviewing this fic for so long! :)**  



	54. Chapter 54

**Ok, a quick note, I was going to upload all the chapters at once until the final, but it seems my trusty beta is now in the Scandinavian countryside with no internet for a month. In the interest of time, I'll be releasing each new section here on over the next few weeks. Apologies for grammar issues (it's not my strong suit). I'll have my beta comb through it again when she returns. :)**

* * *

Merlin turned the heater to full blast, wondering how long it took for frostbite to set in.

The car warmed as he unlaced his canvas sneakers; soaked from the ten minutes he'd spent outside removing frost from the windshield with a school ID. Arthur had told him credit cards and ID's worked well as scrapers in a pinch, but the crystals had taken all of Merlin's muscle power to remove, not to mention warping his ID.

It made Merlin wonder how people managed the chore every day, and how he was going to explain to school security what had happened to his face.

Pressing a socked foot against the heater grate he wiggled his toes one by one. They stung, but he could still feel them- an encouraging sign.

He butted his forehead against the window until hit ached, hoping to see more than the color white and the occasional headlight coasting down the lonely road. It wasn't fair being banished to car. But Merlin hand made a promise to Arthur, and even if it were a stupid promise, he'd honor it.

But that didn't stop him from chewing his nails to nubs and fretting like a mother hen.

Why was Arthur taking so long? What was he _saying_?

When the front door opened Merlin's shoulders slumped with relief.

Arthur was leaving the house, pressing a gloved hand to his face as Morgan slammed the door behind them. She kicked the drainpipe farewell, dislodging icicles from the gutter that fell like transparent spears at their feet.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Merlin heard her say.

"And where do you think you're going?" Arthur said, his voice sounding strained and ridiculously nasal. "Did I ask for your help?"

"Is that supposed to be a _thank you_?" Morgana shouted.

"Thank you for what? You seemed perfectly happy setting me up at dinner to look like a douche in front of dad-"

"I didn't set you up to look like a douche, you are one! But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit by and watch you get murdered, Arthur!"

_Murdered? Just what was Morgan going on about?_

It was then Arthur moved his hand. It was only for a moment, but long enough for Merlin to spot the bloody trail running from Arthur's nose to his lip.

He jumped from passengers seat, tripping knee first into the snow with a thump. Stumbling up, Merlin slapped the damp from his jeans and broke into a run, forgetting that he was only in wool socks. When he reached Arthur his words were frantic, bordering incomprehensible.

"What… happened?" Merlin gasped.

"Got hit," Arthur answered simply, spitting a gob of blood into the snow.

Merlin swallowed, saying the first thought that came to mind. "Uther?"

It was Morgan who nodded confirmation.

Arthur was bleeding. He was _hurt_. And the man who had caused this pain was the same man half responsible for bringing Arthur into this world. Merlin turned to the house, realizing that the heavy curtains hid more from the outside then he'd ever imagined. Understanding, for the first time in his adult life, that monsters were real. And what was most terrifying...they looked just like us.

So, this is why Arthur had been keen to keep their relationship secret all those months?

"This isn't the first time he's done something like this it?" Merlin asked, his hands shaking. "Is that why you didn't want me with you? Why you asked me to load the car?"

Arthur avoided Merlin's probing eyes. "It's over," he whispered, breathing heavily through his mouth. "Let it go."

_Let it go?_ Merlin scoffed. _As if it would be that easy?_

He was going to confront Uther Pendragon.

He was going to _kill_ him.

Morgan read the intent on Merlin's face, her nails digging like fangs into his bicep as she held him back. "Don't be an idiot," she said, irritation hardening her delicate features. "You wouldn't stand a chance."

Logic told Merlin she was right, yet his fists clenched war ready at his sides. He'd never felt so fucking useless. Useless because he wasn't inside to defend Arthur from his father's fury, and double useless because he lacked the skills to repair Arthur after it.

"We have to call the cops." Merlin said.

"I tried," Morgan replied, rolling her eyes at her brother. "He won't have it-"

Arthur stood with his back squared, growling as he repositioned the glove over his nose. "I'm not prosecuting my own father!"

"He_ decked _you-"

"I pushed him too far, and he felt cornered. That was my mistake-"

"_Cornered_?" Morgan interrupted, her voice rising hysterically. "Why do you swallow that man's bullshit like it's fucking chocolate cake? For god's sake Arthur dad disowned you and you're still defending him! What else do you think he'd have done if I wasn't there to stop him?"

Arthur looked like a lost child, the middle of his forehead wrinkling. He tried to speak but instead of words came a strangled noise that cut Merlin's heart in two.

Merlin cocooned him. Pulling Arthur's body protectively against his own and wishing for a moment that he were magic. That he could merge his thoughts with Arthur's and make him _understand_.

He pecked tentatively at Arthur's lips, not caring that they were tinged with the copper flavor of his blood.

"Look at me, Arthur. There is _nothing wrong with_ you," Merlin said, bringing their mouths flush once more. Feeding his boyfriend the words he needed with a gentle patience. "When I look at you I see everything right in this world. Everything beautiful. If your father can't see that in you, he doesn't deserve you in his life."

Once he felt Arthur's breathing soften Merlin removed the scarf from his neck, dabbing at the crusted blood. Arthur's jaw clenched tight as a bear trap. Eyes flinching under the gentlest of Merlin's touches.

He was too proud to say it, and Merlin would never ask, but his reaction told Merlin everything he needed. Before Merlin could address Arthur's psychological pain, he'd have to tackle the physical.

"We have to get you to a hospital. You're nose feels fractured, possibly broken."

"Explains the headache," Arthur deadpanned.

"There's a 24 hour urgent care clinic on Grape and interstate 24. It's not far, five minutes tops." Morgan said.

Merlin held Arthur by the hand, opening the driver side door and hauling his bulk into passengers seat. "Morgan, can you search the suitcases for something clean he can change into?"

Tilting into the headrest, Arthur threw Merlin an incredulous look. "Why are you in the driver seat Merlin?"

"What's it look like, I'm driving."

"You don't have a license. And it's _snowing_…."

"I had a learners permit before I totaled my moms car. I hear driving is like riding a bicycle-"

"You on a _bicycle_?" Arthur rasped, grabbing the clean shirt Morgan chucked at him from the back. "Sounds more terrifying then you behind the wheel."

Merlin was pleased to see Arthur's sense of humor hadn't bled out yet. He white knuckled the steering wheel. Adjusted the rear view mirror for show and said, "Ummmm…. something's wrong with the engine..."

"For starters it isn't on, and you're in park." Morgan snorted, buckling her seat belt and making a Hail Mary for good measure.

Merlin chewed his lower lip and choked the engine to life. He pulled back the parking break, gave the truck a little gas and sent it sailing it backward. Smashing into something he prayed wasn't human with a thick crash.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, the impact thumping his head into the seat.

Merlin took his foot off the gas and peered out the back window. The thing he'd murdered was a mailbox. Splintered the wood beam at it's base to pieces and and scattered the paper contents to the brown snowy slush. Somehow Merlin doubted the bumper of the Ford had fared any better then the beam it had hit.

Morgan crawled in-between the armrest. "For fuck's sake let me drive!"

He pulled the keys out of the ignition, tossing them to Morgan without a fight. "Hope Uther likes my farewell present," Merlin smirked.

The car filled with a palpable silence as Morgan claimed the Driver seat, Merlin scuffling to the back.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Arthur asked, amusement twinkling behind the glossy pain in his eyes.

Merlin quirked his eyebrows up in feigned innocence. "Me? Why would I do a thing like that?"

"Real mature Merlin," Arthur said with a dry chuckle. "Real freaking mature."


	55. Chapter 55

The magazines in the urgent care clinic were stacked like cubed instillation art, making Merlin wonder if he should disturb them. He'd never met anyone who read _Better Homes and Gardens_, but he imagined they were females over the age of fifty who planted bulbs in the spring.

Morgan picked up one of said magazines, fixing it in her hand like a theater prop. Her pupils were unfocused; head snapping up like a meerkat's every time the nurse at the desk called a new number.

Together they watched a mother in a plaid coat cross the reception, guiding her infant son through a heavy set of steel doors. The same doors Arthur had passed through a half hour before.

Merlin wasn't nervous of hospitals and clinics, the way Morgan appeared to be. Growing up with a retired physician stepfather inoculated him against that phobia. However, sitting in the sterile waiting room with its tacky plastic chairs and Thomas Kinkade art wasn't how he'd anticipated this vacation ending.

He'd have to point out the Kinkades to Arthur later. Particularly the one of a man fly-fishing in a sun dappled forest. He'd always loved the way Arthur grimaced at the mention of Kinkades name. Saying things like, 'Kinkade is to painting what McDonald's is to hamburgers', then expelling a snort when Merlin branded him a hypocrite for eating McDonald's.

The room was empty now; save for Merlin, Morgana, and the reception nurse watching muted MSNBC. The same nurse who'd given the trio a nasty look as Arthur filled out his admission paperwork. Dripping bloody spots on the counter as he muttered an excuse about walking into a door.

Morgana looked up over her unopened magazine, checking to see if the unhappy nurse was watching them.

"Merlin, I've been thinking," she said.

"I hear that's terrible for you," Merlin replied reflexively.

"You're the _other woman_, aren't you? The one Arthur was sleeping with behind Gwen's back?"

Merlin looked down at his soggy sneakers, his mind flashing to the dining table at the Oakland apartment. To Arthur, and the terse conversation that christened their first meal together.

The memory made his chest ache.

"You and Arthur really _are_ related," he said under his breath. "You both have zero tact."

"I told Gwen I'd beat the bitch who did that to her... Would have been much more satisfying if you'd been a girl-"

"Would it help if I put on a dress?" Merlin replied sarcastically.

Laughter rolled from Morgan's lips, but she hid it her sleeve. "I'd like to see that. But giving the circumstances, the beating is off." She paused, rolling the magazine in her hands. "You must mean a lot to Arthur. I've never seen him contradict dad before."

"And look what he has to show for it…"

"Arthur's taken worse horsing around with his friends. He'll live. I still can't believe he's_ Gay_ though. I mean, I never saw the signs! It's not like he wore pink t-shirts-"

"He needs your support Morgan," Merlin responded crisply. "Now more then ever. You're the only family he has left."

"He has it Merlin. We have our differences but he's my brother. I'll be there for him."

Morgan rested her hand on Merlin's knee, stroking it gently. It was a disarming show of compassion from Morgan. One that left Merlin confused and on the verge of tears.

There must have been a time before the rivalry and petty jabs, when Morgan and Arthur enjoyed each other. Played games and laughed in the innocent way of children. Merlin had heard snippets of sibling affection during their teasing, glimpsed it their body language, and it gave him hope.

Perhaps Morgan saw the emotion in Merlin's eyes, because without missing a beat she lowered her voice and asked, "So how's Arthur in bed? Gwen would never squeal, but I have the impression he's a two minute show at best-"

The double doors thumped open. "Don't you _dare_ answer that, Merlin!"

Arthur looked tired and little swollen, but his sharp eyes and petulant voice were pure Pendragon.

Merlin rubbed at his aching temple. Leave it to Morgan to not only spoil a sentimental a moment, but beat it death.

He stood up and asked, "Is it broken?"

"Yes, but not badly-" Arthur replied, rubbing a white splint taped to his nose. "Doctor says it won't require anything more then time to heal, and he was nice enough to prescribe painkillers that can take down a horse." He sat in the plastic seat next to Merlin, wrapping his arm across the back like a teenager at a movie date. "I'll make a few calls; find us a place to stay tonight. We can check with the airlines in the morning to catch an earlier flight home-"

"Why not stay at my mom's?" Morgan offered. "I'll be hiding there until dad cools off."

Arthur blinked his lips thinning. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"It's not an imposition, she won't mind."

Morgan put her hand on Arthur's back, wrestling him into a bear hug. An impressive feat for a woman her size. Arthur's wiggling arms and feral eyes reminded Merlin of how cat's look when snuggled against their will.

"She's touching me!" Arthur choked.

"Indeed," Merlin said.

"What the hell did you do to her?" He asked, looking at his sister like she'd been demonically possessed. "Drug her while I was away? Slip her the Prozac?"

Morgan slapped Arthur lightly on the cheek. "I'm trying to be supportive, you little fuck. You could have told me you're _gay_."

Arthur's expression changed from confusion, to embarrassment. Merlin knew the look well. It was one he'd felt on his own face a dozen times since high school, when he couldn't tell if people were sincere when asking about his sexual orientation, or setting him up as the punch line of their joke.

"Right," Arthur said. "That would have gone swimmingly…"

"Arthur, I'm not _dad_!" Morgan shouted. "This isn't the Middle Ages! Do you see me prancing around in jewels saving myself till marriage? And you think I haven't messed around with a girl before?"

Merlin raised his left eyebrow higher than Gaius's.

"What, I made out with Viv a few times," she shrugged; enjoying the sharp look the nurse gave them from across the room. She snapped her fingers, as if reminding herself. "Oh, and once with Gwen. Nothing turns straight boys on faster then two chicks. To think all these years Arthur and I could have been scoping out guys together-"

"Would've sucked for you, I'd have stolen the hot ones," Arthur said with a tentative smile.

"Doubt it. But your boyfriend is awfully cute, and I can tell he really loves you."

Merlin shifted, squeaking his sneakers on the floor. He didn't feel cute. Not in comparison to Greek godliness of Arthur. Still, he felt a smile touch his own lips as Arthur clasped his hands over Merlin's and said softly, 'I know'.

Arthur' hands were cool, and rough. Without the scrapped knuckles Merlin expected of a man who'd gotten into a fight. Despite what his father had done to him, it appeared Arthur hadn't retaliated.

Merlin cursed the man for being so fucking noble.

"Morgan, about what happened at the house…. I just wanted to-"

"Don't," Morgan said to Arthur with a dismissive wave.

Arthur patted her shoulder, hard, like he did with his jock buddies. "If you ever need a vacation away from dad, Merlin and I will have a couch with your name on it. I wouldn't play San Francisco tour guide, go out of my way for you or anything-"

"You're shit at apologies, Arthur."

"I've been shit at a lot of things lately. But you're still welcome to visit us."

"Careful with the offer big brother," Morgan smiled, tussling Arthur's golden hair until it stood up in a rat's nest. "I might actually take you up on it."


	56. Chapter 56

The Christmas holiday came and went in a blink of brown-paper gift-wrap and homemade apple cider. Arthur had found himself, once again, in the familiar comfort of the Fairfax house. Waking up every morning to a groggy boyfriend hogging all of the blankets.

The Emrys family celebrated the season in a quaint fashion. Instead of the traditional indoor Christmas tree, they opted for a living one in the front yard. Arthur had steadied the six-foot ladder, helping Merlin and Hunith decorate the chosen noble fir with popcorn garlands and peanut butter smeared pine cones. The ritual was archaic, but he'd enjoyed the results. Taking coffee at the round table with Merlin and his parents as they watched the jays nibble the winter treats.

Hunith had made a habit of re-filling Arthur's plate without asking if he wanted seconds. Giaus monitoring the healing of his broken nose, once the splint was removed. Merlin's family had claimed Arthur, without his realizing it. And what was even stranger; he was growing to need them back.

He didn't expect contact from his 'real' family at Christmas, even though he'd parted with Morgan on a good note (thanking her and her mother profusely for their hospitality). And Uther...well, talking to him again was out of the question. So when a holiday envelope came in the mail addressed to _Mr. Arthur Pendragon_, he was a little surprised. He tore it open, revealing a card with a buff Santa Claus in a thong and a long message from Morgan, gushing about how she would visit him over spring break.

"Jesus-" Arthur had exclaimed, nose wrinkling at the tasteless card.

"Santa, actually," Merlin had replied, swiping it from his hands. "And I think it's hilarious!" He'd stuck the card on the fridge with a magnet, both of them laughing at the appalled face Gaius made when he passed the picture for the first time.

The most surprising Christmas gift came in the signing of a lease. A one-year contact they'd secured for a dilapidated Edwardian on 23 Avalon street, a jaunt away from the Castro's most colorful stores.

Sure, it was only a one-bedroom apartment. The toilet and tub were a fetid salmon color, spaced so close together you could pee while showering. Not to mention the peeling paint on the kitchen cabinets and the spider living under the sink Merlin swore was a flesh eating brown recluse.

The place was _theirs_. And so, defects and all- it was perfect.

They picked up the keys on New Years day, taking a detour to _The Moby Dick _to celebrate with a drink. There was nothing particularly amazing about the gay bar, besides the fact that it was within walking distance of their new place. It had the visual stimulants Merlin required as a non-drinker. Esoteric art on the walls, indie-etronica music videos, and a salt-water fish tank. For Arthur, it offered the cheap drinks he enjoyed (frozen margarita's), and an upstairs pool table he was itching to bend Merlin over on.

Together they sat at a booth, legs hopelessly entangled. Jeans squeaking the leather upholstery each time one of them shifted to reach their drink. Merlin was sipping a Shirley Temple. Arthur surveying his mouth; enamored by the way Merlin's plump lips fellated his straw. Eventually Arthur's focus shifted to two good-looking men, making out in the corner over shots of Patron. The lager man was playing the smaller like a pianist, eliciting a series of obscene groans from his partner.

But they were both clearly cherishing the attention. Noises increasing as eyes wandered helplessly to them.

"Shameless," Arthur said, tucking his budding erection under the elastic of his boxers.

Merlin popped the red maraschino cherry from his drink into his mouth, chewing languidly. "Utterly," he replied.

"Apartment?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Merlin said, voice softening to a whisper.

* * *

Arthur lay flat backed, sliding his feet into the plush carpet where Merlin was drowsing bedside him. He rubbed his thumb over Merlin's bottom lip, shivering as his boyfriend captured it knuckle deep in a kiss.

Only moments ago, he'd watched his member sliding in and out of that flawless mouth. Felt his fingers tangled in thick black hair, Merlin kneeling before him as one would a throne. Worshiping Arthur's cock with the wet sloshing of his tongue until Arthur's knees buckled, fearing Merlin's mouth wouldn't be enough to contain his climax. That was until Merlin took him deeper, Arthur swearing his orgasm for all their new neighbors to hear.

A man could get used to that kind of treatment.

"Smells like fresh paint in here." Arthur said, sighing as Merlin released his digit.

A grin wrinkled the corner of Merlin's eyes, dimpling his cheeks. "I think it smells like steamed carpets, and cleaner, and spices from all the delicious meals I'm going to cook you-"

"And fantastic apartment sex?"

"No more of that until we get a proper bed. My knees can't take the carpet burn." Merlin rolled himself up, stretched the sleep from his limbs and trudged to the hallway closet.

"Cock tease." Arthur grunted, following. He switched the closet light off behind Merlin (He'd have to lecture him about energy conservation later, if this arrangement was ever going to work out), watching him take out his cell and snap a few shots of the barren space.

"We can put the bed here," Merlin motioned, pointing to a sunny spot beside the largest window. "Couch and coffee table near the entryway. If we go without a dining table and chairs we can fit your easel and my sewing machine in the kitchen alcove. Turn it into a mini studio space-"

"Sure, it's not like we can afford new furniture. Speaking of furniture, I emailed Gwen yesterday. She's found a roommate so you can get your deposit back for the old Apartment. She said we could come by this weekend and get it, along with our stuff."

"That's great…." The words were there, but the sentiment never touched Merlin's eyes.

"Nervous?" Arthur asked.

"I haven't seen Gwen in a month. She never would return my calls."

He was keen to point out that he could say the same, until now. That if anyone had the right to be nervous about seeing his ex girlfriend, it was he; but instead Arthur said, "It's only Gwen."

"Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned." Merlin replied, running the faucet in the kitchen to see that it worked properly. The first pulse came out with a rusty tinge from disuse. After a moment it ran clear, so he dipped his head under, taking two large gulps.

Arthur turned the tap off, cleaning the wet drips from Merlin's chin as if he were a child. "We've survived expulsion, Nimue, and my dad. I think we can manage chit-chatting Gwen and loading up a U-Haul."

* * *

**Again, my apologies for the lack of Beta on this. I'll go back and remedy that with my beta in Aug. :) two more chapters to go!**


	57. Chapter 57

Arthur thought: _Of course he's the roommate._

A smirk tickled at Arthur's lips until Merlin glowered at him, pinching his bicep until Arthur's mouth fell back to a neutral line.

Lance had answered the door to the Oakland apartment, moving with the ease of a man comfortable in his surroundings. His stripped Lacoste shirt was freed to its second button, mahogany hair hanging in wet waves- as if he'd come straight from the shower. He smiled, locking Merlin into a hug that left watermarks on his white shirt. "Mer, It's been too long!" he said.

"You too, Lance," Merlin mumbled shyly.

"And Arthur, you're looking-" Lance scanned Arthur's' face, settling on the purple bruising of his healing nose. "Well…it's good to see you anyway." he said, shifting a stack of cardboard boxes and ushering the pair inside.

The living room was covered in cardboard boxes, all labeled by function or room. The ones labeled 'Kitchen' were half open, spewing crumpled newspaper on the floor. But others were packed, duck-taped, and banished to the corner, as if Gwen had been prepping to clear Arthur's things for some time. When she appeared in the hallway, her hair equally damp, Arthur had little doubt the true nature of her relationship with the new roommate.

She looked radiant in a navy sundress. Her lips a soft pout as she whispered, "Hi," fluttering looks between Merlin and Arthur.

"Hey," they chanted back in unison.

"Merlin," Lancelot said, heaving a box labeled 'A's Clothes' over his shoulder. "Would you mind helping with the moving truck? I think Gwen wanted a word with Arthur... in private."

Arthur was keen to point out that 'Merlin' and 'heavy lifting' didn't' exactly go together. And so was Merlin, if his gaping mouth was an indication. But Lance quickly whisked Merlin from Arthur's side and out the front door, the pale man frowning apologies as Arthur was left alone- with his ex.

Discomfort washed over Arthur as Gwen stared coolly at him. "Let's talk on the patio," she suggested. "It's quieter." She pulled open the French doors, upsetting a vine curled in its frame. It sprung free, tapping Arthur's shoulder as they walked outside. Husks of wisteria crinkled under their footsteps. Gwen gesturing to a café set with shattered green paint.

"Sit."

Arthur obliged, watching her grab a metal watering can. There was a sweet pang as its belly filled, water swishing in the steel gut. She walked to a succulent bed that encircled the cement patio and began to water. The stony soil soaking it's drink greedily. "Where have you been staying?" She asked. But before Arthur could speak she had answered; "You've been staying at Merlin's parents, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but we've got a place now." Arthur said.

"I've met the Emrys a few times. Their good people, probably better then you deserve-"

Arthur's stomach tightened, expecting to feel the sting of the watering can across his face.

She shook the last traces of water from the can, dropping and sitting across from him. "I'm as empty as this can, Arthur. If you came expecting a fight I simply don't have the strength for it."

"I don't want to fight you," he sighed.

"Then we still have one thing in common. So, what happened to your face?"

"Cosmetic procedure," Arthur smiled softly. "Never did like the bump in my nose-"

"Morgan told me you and Uther got into a fight when you visited her. That you… um…. came out to him?"

"He's got a mean right hook for a man his age, but it needed to happen. I'm glad it happened-"

Gwen swore under her breath, looking into the open courtyard. "Our first date, that terrible Spiderman movie. Why did you ask me out, Arthur?"

Arthur's smile turned tepid. "Are you kidding? You were the most beautiful girl in school, but you still swore like a sailor. All the guys wanted you and I promised myself I'd get you before Kay Johnson did."

"As If I'd have let that Neanderthal near me! Do you... know why I said yes?"

"Because dinner was on me?"

"Because you were hot," Gwen said grudgingly. "My friends said I would be mental turn down Arthur Pendragon," she paused and whistled through her teeth. "I've been thinking myself into insomnia this past month. Thinking of us. What I'd say when I could stand to look at you again. Do you remember when I called you freshman year crying? The night I found my bike tires slashed?"

"You didn't remember time difference," Arthur chimed. "Called me at two in the morning sobbing. I was worried you'd been hurt. I think I told you to take a cab home?"

"You did, and I didn't listen. I must have walked past a dozen cafes. A dozen people taking their dogs out to pee, and not one cared enough to ask a nineteen-year-old girl why she was bawling." She paused, rubbing her hands together. "But I made it home, Arthur. I walked to the bike shop the next day, bought new tires, and put them on by myself. I guess what I'm saying is I can take care of myself, like I told you before, 'your not that irresistible'. No matter what's happened between us I'm going to be just fine. But you… How are you going to get by with school and rent? I'm assuming Uther cut you off?"

She was right about one thing. The living stipend his father usually deposited in his account was missing this month. He didn't expect it to return.

"I've taken out a school loan," Arthur said, scratching the back of his neck. "I can live off my savings for a few months. The CCAC counselor set me up as a work-study adviser for the painting studio, in the spring semester. It pays alright. I'll probably need a second job, but I'll get by."

Gwen strained in her seat, her mouth opening twice before asking. "Are you happy, Arthur? Does Merlin make you happy?"

It was difficult to put to words how incredible Merlin made him feel. Like asking what the color red looks like, or why the sweet things taste sweet. So instead Arthur nodded his affirmative, letting a new question form on his tongue. "Does Lance make _you_ happy?"

"Lance?"

She didn't look offended, so Arthur decided to press a little further. "Your new roommate. You two an item?"

Gwen blushed, letting her curls tangle on the back of the chair. But the gleam in her eye was impossible to miss. "I don't know. It's too soon to say, but… I like him."

Arthur was pleased by the answer. Lance was a good man, and an honest man. He'd love her the way she deserved.

"Can you ever forgive me?" Arthur asked.

"For the break up? I've already forgiven you for that." Gwen said. "But for cheating on me? No, not in a million years."

"I never wanted us to end like this-"

"It doesn't matter what either of us wanted, this is what is. You can help Merlin pack your things. Make sure to give him this. It came in the mail last week-"

She pulled out a long white envelope with _Mr. Merlin Emrys_ printed in gold font. Arthur cradled the letter in his hands, reading the fancy return label from _The Arts of Fashion Foundation_.

He held his breath.

"Do you think its…?"

"They don't send rejection letters in envelops that thick," Gwen smiled softly. "I considered shredding it, but I couldn't. It's too important."

"Thanks Gwen, for the talk. For everything," Arthur smiled back.

She shrugged, watching him as he rose from the seat. "Arthur, one last thing. Will you bring Merlin out so I can talk to him? I don't want it to be awkward between us next week in class. We have a year and a half left of school together…. I'm not saying things are going to be _easy_ between us, but I'm willing to take the high road if he is."

The patio smelled of wet earth. Freshly trimmed grass and the budding life spring promised in a month's time. Feeling the winter sun on his skin, Arthur stared into the whites of his former lovers eyes. In that quiet moment, he was reminded why he'd adored Gwen- and why a part of him always would.


	58. Chapter 58

**-Epilogue- 8 month's later-**

Arthur peered behind his laptop.

An older woman with brown-cropped hair was hunched over his cubicle, pushing her translucent glasses down the bridge of her nose. "Six o'clock," she said in a maternal voice. "If you don't hurry traffic will be deadlocked on 101."

He gathered a stack of papers at his right elbow, shuffling them into a resemblance of order. "All right Linda, I'll finish this up and-"

"Arthur, as your manager I insist you call it day. The work will be there Monday morning, promise. Heck, I'll add to it if you want-"

Arthur huffed a laugh and put his laptop to sleep, taking in his reflection in the dimmed screen as if it were a mirror. He combed his fringe to the side, deciding he liked his part where it was, then subtly checked his teeth to make sure he didn't have poppy seeds from his lunch bagel stuck in them.

After he'd chained his computer to the desk with a company-supplied cable, he stood from his swivel chair. "Thanks, I really appreciate you letting me leave early."

Linda breezed into Arthur's cube, smile tugging with warmth as she said, "You're a hard worker kid. With all the late nights you've put in this month it seems fair."

Since starting his internship with Apple, Arthur had tried to be a standout among his peers. He came into Apple Campus Cupertino everyday with the sunrise, leaving well after sunset. When he wasn't working on projects or picking the brains of the full time industrial design staff, he was swapping painting techniques with his boss, or sitting in the front row of the lunchtime Executive Speaker Series. Taking as many notes as he could scribble in his ledger.

That Arthur's manager hadn't failed to notice his enthusiasm, even complimented him for it, left a fuzzy pride in his chest.

"How long as has it been since you've seen you boyfriend?" Linda asked picking up the single photo Arthur kept at his workstation. It was the selfie of him and Merlin from their trip to Indiana. Merlin's ears sticking out adorably under his ND hat, high cheeks red from the cold but his smile warmer then a thousand summers.

"A month," Arthur said, licking his lips. "But it feels like a lifetime."

She put the photo down and picked up Arthur's cardigan, throwing it over his head. "Don't keep him waiting then! And feel free bring Merlin to the office for lunch. I'd love to meet this mystery man I've heard so much about, especially if he can hem pants-"

Arthur slipped it on and popped up the collar, hoping his grin didn't look as girly and lopsided as it felt. Was it that obvious how excited he was?

He signed out at the main office. Jogged through the park like interior of the campus until he reached his car. Sticking the keys in, he prayed for the engine of the geriatric Saturn to start- kissing the dash with gratitude when it actually did.

Forty minutes. An hour tops if the traffic held, Arthur told himself, taming the butterfly's that twirled knots in his stomach.

He'd waited four weeks for this. He could survive an hour more.

* * *

"That's my name."

Their eyes touched, and Merlin winked, grin so wide his face barely contained it. He moved closer to Arthur, taking the cardboard sign from his hands. "Is that doodle is supposed to be me?"

Arthur looked down at his sharpie scribbled sign, then back up at Merlin, starring at him intently. As if the lanky man was the only person in the crowded airport arrival terminal. Merlin's scarf was an immaculate teal knot at his throat; the perfect contrast to a rumpled T-shirt and the hint of black five o clock shadow painting his jawline. His hair had grown out since Arthur had last seen him, thick bangs flopping lazily over lake-blue eyes.

International travel was, apparently, a good look for Merlin Emrys.

"Yep, it's you," Arthur replied, licking his lips. "See... stick body, scarf, big ears-"

"My ear's aren't_ that_ big."

"You're right, I ran out of paper."

Arthur was relieved to see Merlin still beaming at him. "Arrogant prick," Merlin rumbled, stroking the nape of Arthur's neck until it tickled. "God I've missed you…."

"I've missed you more." Arthur said.

And he had. Missed the taste of Merlin's mint chapstick on his lips. His smell, clean and sweet like herbal laundry soap. The weight of his pale body spooning Arthur night, and the desperate way he whispered, _'I love you'_ when Arthur spent inside him. Being parted from Merlin had been like holding his breath for weeks and now, finally, he could gulp air again.

Arthur pulled Merlin's thin hand into his back pocket with possessive affection. Using his free hand to carry Merlin's luggage. "How was Paris, Love?" he asked.

Merlin tilted his head back. A low laugh rolling from his chest. "Where to be begin," he enthused. "The technique workshops were…. Arthur' I've never learned so much in my life. Beading applications, real couture construction. I think the instructors liked my progress; they even let me work on their fall runway collection pieces! Granted at times the program felt more like slave camp then a reward-"

Arthur nodded.

"Oh, and the shopping!" Merlin said, playing circles in Arthur's pocket. "Marché St Pierre had five floors of_ just_ fabric, and Tissus Reine's notations... I brought a few meters of fabric home to play with. Thank goodness for my sloppy high school French, right?" Merlin paused for a beat, his face troubled. "I'm boring you, aren't I? I told you all this last time we Skyped-"

"I like hearing it from your mouth," Arthur confessed. "Seeing the spark behind your eyes when you talk about your fashion. How was the rest of the trip, Merlin? Didn't cheat on our no smoking rule did you?"

Merlin's eyebrows perked into question marks. "Can't a guy have his secrets?"

"I don't believe in keeping secrets," Arthur smiled. "But I won't bitch at you. Just tell me you weren't picking up cute French guys while you were away?"

"Cuter then_ you_?" Merlin laughed. "Impossible…"

They fell into each other's arms, exchanging a flurry of needy, almost sloppy kisses Arthur hoped would never end. "Take me home," Merlin sighed, pressing his lithe body into Arthur's chest. "We'll get Thai delivery. Talk about you for a change. Your internship-"

"_Delivery_?" Arthur balked. "You think I'm made of money?"

"I heard Apple pay's well."

"Mmm maybe. Especially when said intern leads the industrial design team to flag football victory at the corporate games-"

Merlin's expressed his interest with a low mew. "Would've liked to see you muddied up on the field. Were you were wearing those clingy shorts of yours?"

"I have the uniform at home, if you want to see it. Shall we skip dinner and go straight to desert... in the car?" Arthur asked, looping his fingers through Merlin's scarf.

Merlin bit his lip. "The car? Seriously?"

"You like doing it cars…."

"No Arthur,_ you_ like doing it cars. And bathrooms, and elevators, and closets, I think you have a fetish…."

Arthur silenced Merlin with a lingering kiss. "You're wrong, Merlin, I like doing it with _you. D_oesn't matter where. And I happen to be a _very_ impatient man-"

Tumbling together into the back seat of the Saturn, Arthur felt, for once in his life, as proud as the ancient king whose name he bore. After years of confusion and strife he'd touched real happiness. Found in Merlin a lover and an equal. A partner Arthur wasn't only comfortable living with, but the man he simply couldn't live without.

* * *

**This is officially the end of the fic! Wow, this was really difficult to write. ;_;**

**Let me start by saying thank you everyone for bearing with my lack of beta on the last few chapters. Also a HUGE thank you to those who have stuck with Sew Right since it's start in 2012, and those of you just reading it now. This has been a huge learning experience as my first completed multi-chapter fanfic (hopefully not the last).**

**If you've enjoyed reading the story, please take a little time to write a quick review. I really take them to heart, your feedback has been _amazing_ in helping develop the story, and improving my writing for future works. :)**

**Thanks again**

**-Candymacaron**


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